Smokey: A Devil's MC Second Chance

Romance (A Devil's MC Series Book 2)

Charlotte Mcginlay
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SMOKEY
DEVILS MC #2
C.L. MCGINLAY
Copyright © 2024 by Charlotte McGinlay
Smokey: A Devil’s MC Series – Book 2
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other
non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or
dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Line Editing: Danica Sorber - Wordsmith Alchemy
Formatting: Danica Sorber - Wordsmith Alchemy
 CONTENTS

Trigger Warnings
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31

Dear Reader,
Other Books by Charlotte
About the Author
 TRIGGER WARNINGS

This book contains graphic depictions of violence, sexual assault, kidnapping, explicit sex, and miscarriage. If any of these
themes disturb you, please do not read.
 PROLOGUE

Smokey – 22 Years Old

I TAKE a hit of my smoke as I watch Suzy, our waitress from Devil’s Temptation, slowly lick Cherrie, a club whore’s, pussy
from hole to clit, and then gradually circles it, sucking the small nub into her mouth.
I rub my hard cock through my jeans, enjoying the show, my cock weeping, knowing I won't get involved because I was the
idiot who married my high school sweetheart three years ago when she told me she was pregnant. That marriage included
signing a fucking prenuptial agreement for her very religious parents, stating that I wouldn't divorce her unless she cheats. They
were sure to add that, if I cheat or try to divorce her, she gets fucking half of everything I own.
At least I was smart enough to ensure that if she cheats, she gets fuck all.
My parents hated the idea; her parents loved it.
I thought I was doing the right thing, thinking she would be the one who I'd learn to love eventually, only to find out the test
was a false positive at an ultrasound appointment a month after the very quick courthouse wedding. Kallie was so fucking
excited for the appointment after the very disappointing wedding she hated, hoping for a lavish event. But then technician burst
her bubble, saying there was no baby. She cried, admitting that she had to be pregnant, blurting out that she hadn't taken birth
control for months.
I saw fucking red.
The bitch tried to trap me, and I was the fool who fell for it.
Hook, line, and fucking sinker.
The truth came out. Weeks before the positive pregnancy test, she somehow overheard that I was planning on ending things
with her. I thought she was just bat shit crazy, jealous, and too high maintenance. So she conducted this fucked up plan to get
knocked up, knowing I wouldn't abandon my child.
Now I'm stuck married to her because of that fucked up prenup.
Cherrie's back arches off my bed at the clubhouse as she moans loudly, Suzy holding her legs up, digging her false nails into
Cherrie's thighs as she feasts on the very wet pussy in front of her. I rub harder on my dick, taking another hit of my smoke,
enjoying the rush of watching two fuck hot women pleasure each other.
I haven't had sex in three fucking years, refusing to touch my manipulative wife, who continues to try and get me to fuck her
—bare, I might add.
That is not going to happen.
I don't love her, but I did care for her at one point. I thought dating a nice town girl, a civilian not a part of the MC, would
be different than the patch casers wanting a brother. I was wrong, and now she's just a nuisance I can't get rid of. I never should
have signed the prenup. I shouldn’t have fucking married her until the ultrasound appointment; without fucking proof she was
actually pregnant.
Live and learn and all that fucked up shit, I guess.
Cherrie's moans get louder, her orgasm getting closer, causing Suzy to quickly jump up, spit down on Cherrie's already wet
pussy, before placing her equally wet pussy on top. I groan as I watch them both rub against each other, trying to get off.
I stroke my dick harder in my pants, knowing I can't get it out without wanting to get it wet, but not caring that I'm about to
come in my briefs like a teenager. Suddenly, someone knocks on my door. I groan in frustration, the ladies too busy in the throes
of passion to care about the soon-to-be-dead asshole who’s interrupted us.
Sighing, I take the last hit of my smoke and stand up. I crush the cigarette in the ashtray near the bed, and head toward the
door.
I open it as I blow the smoke out of my nose, the cold metal of my wedding band burning my skin like it always does when
it makes contact with the wood, the sensation reminding me I’m trapped. Tech's blue eyes meet my piercing ones. He grins
wide, and I raise a brow as he looks at the women on my bed with a chuckle.
"Brother, you and I both know this is the only way for me to get off nowadays. What's so important that you had to interrupt
this?"
He grins wider. "How about your wife letting Travis from high school enter you’re apartment? Or how about the
surveillance we installed the other day to find something, anything to get you your divorce, said surveillance showing them
fucking on that ugly ass purple couch the bitch picked out? Or how about the audio recording of her telling him to get her
pregnant this time?"
My smile grows wide. I fucking knew they had something going on. I slap my hands together and rub them before whistling
to the ladies. They stop mid grind and turn toward the open door.
"You two out; I have a wife to confront and a divorce to file."
Unperturbed by the interruption, they both come, their orgasms taking over, making me tilt my head toward them to see
Cherrie rubbing her juicy cunt against Suzy’s.
Tech rasps, "Fuck that was hot," making me hum in agreement because, yeah, it fucking was.
They both look at me with glassy, lust-filled eyes before nodding and gingerly getting up. Suzy looks at Tech and bites her
lip, making him chuckle.
"Not happening, Suze,” he says. “Come on, brother, let's go. Snake's waiting outside with Hairy."
I nod and wait for the ladies to saunter out and more than likely find a willing brother. I lock my door and see Suzy sulking
along the way, making me laugh.
Twenty minutes later, we're rolling our bikes down the road to the front of the apartment I was forced to buy, not wanting
Kallie at the home I built on club property, my mother swearing my death if I moved her in. So the apartment was a
compromise, so to speak—though, after today, this place will be going on the market.
With a smile on my face and the guys chuckling behind me, we head up to the fourth floor, before slowly and quietly
entering the apartment, and walking into the living area where the woman who swore she just really loved me and not the
money I bring to the table is fucking Travis. Travis, the fuck, was once the school's favorite quarterback but is now working
nights at the supermarket after he got caught skimming high school football game points for drug money. His paunchy stomach
hangs between them as he fucks her from behind, grunting. His fat ass is on display.
Tech gets his phone out to record their fucking despite surveillance around the place, probably not wanting to chance
anything.
Kallie moans. "Yes, right there, Trav, don't stop, baby."
I hold in my snort at her fake noises. I can see her roll her eyes from here, and she's not even facing us. Leaning against the
wall, I get comfortable, the brothers following my actions as we watch the dramatic show.
"Fuck Kallie, do you like my big, meaty, fat cock in your cunt. Does that feel good, having your insides ripped open?"
I cringe as my brothers try to hold in their gagging sounds.
"Yes, Trav, that feels so good; I love your fat, meaty cock. Come in me, baby. Get me pregnant so we can have a cushy life.
Yes, yes, yes."
I raise a brow at Snake, who shakes his bald head at their stupidity. Done with the bad porn being performed in front of me,
I sigh out loud.
"Well, I wonder how the bitch was going to get away with dumping a child that's not even mine on me when I haven't
fucked her in three years, or did she forget about DNA tests?"
I say it loud enough for the idiots to hear me. The brothers chuckle as Kallie gasps and Travis jumps back, grabbing the
pink cushion from the couch to hide his very small dick.
I laugh, his words during their act coming back to me. Meaty and fat, my ass. More like tiny and pencil thin.
Kallie's crocodile tears fall as she tries to cover herself with the pink throw.
"J-Jonny baby, I…."
I cut her off. "It's Smokey, and you know it."
She shakes her head. "B-but I-I'm your wife; you l-love me."
The brothers chuckle as Travis shakes in fear, and I shrug.
"As of five minutes ago, you're my soon-to-be ex-wife. Your parent's lawyer has already been provided with video proof
of your little act here, along with a recording of everything you were saying. And we both know, Kallie, that I never loved you;
it's why you decided to try and trap me to begin with. There's a reason why I haven't fucked you since that ultrasound
appointment. So, soon-to-be ex-wife, pack your shit and get out. You just got nothing in the divorce."
Her eyes widen as she starts to shake her head.
Snake, our soon-to-be Prez, steps forward.
"You can either pack your clothes and only your clothes since they are what you moved in with, or we pack them for you."
He leans forward. "And I'll tell ya now, darling, we won't be using suitcases or bags, they'll be flung out the window. You have
ten minutes. Tech will be watching."
Tech nods to the room before she stutters, "I-I need to g-get dressed."
I just chuckle. "Kal, every man here saw your loose cunt when the pencil dick there was trying to knock you up. Get
moving, now!"
Her tears fall as she rushes into the master room, Tech hot on her heels, ensuring she only takes the clothes that she brought
here. Everything else I paid for. I paid for her make-up, jewelry, furniture—everything, which I'll probably donate.
This bitch is getting fuck all.
I look toward a shaken Travis and raise a brow. "Let me guess…you've been fucking since high school?"
He swallows hard. "We were together before you two were. She wanted more money, and knew I fucked up my chances of
college ball and the pros. No one will hire me for a decent job, so I decided to go along with her plan."
I nod. "Does she even know you can't have kids?"
He swallows again and shakes his head, making me chuckle. The fucker popped his balls during a football game, too high
on drugs to even run a straight line. Still, it looks like he just wanted to keep fucking Kallie. Sighing, I state, "Leave, Travis,
before you find out what I can do with a cigarette."
His eyes widen. He obviously knows the rumors about the fucker who tried to assault Lola, Doc's sister, and her best friend
Kennedy two years ago, and how he ended up burned alive after someone spent hours torturing him with a cigarette.
He was my first kill, and I take full credit for it, and I'd do it again. No one hurts our club princess and honorary princess.
Travis quickly rushes out of the apartment, the brothers laughing because he left his clothes behind. Tech pushes Kallie
down the small hallway toward the living room. "The bitch tried to grab your mother's engagement ring from the safe as I
walked in there. Failed twice."
I scowl at her. I never gave it to Kallie, but my mother did give it to me. I installed a safe in the bedroom and placed the
ring in there the day after our wedding, fully intending to live here with Kallie. She begged for it for years.
Bitch.
Kallie blinks several times, her blue eyes tearing up, her blonde hair a mess. "It-its rightfully mine."
I smirk. "Funny, I don't remember proposing with it. Last time I checked, I didn't propose at all; my exact words were,
'We'll get married next week,' which means you have no claim to it. The prenup states it as well."
Her face reddens. "I deserve something out of this marriage!"
I laugh with the brothers. "Really? Because your boyfriend admitted you two have been fucking since before you set your
sights on me. He also admitted that you wanted my money, knowing club brothers get a sweet percentage of club profits."
Her eyes widen, and I grin. "Did you know Travis popped both his balls that same fateful day his career ended? He can't
have kids, Kallie."
She swallows hard as full-blown anger envelops her features. She must realize she's been duped just as her phone rings.
She clears her throat and grabs it off the couch, her face paling when she sees who it is.
"Momma?" she answers.
I grin wide as her mother's voice echoes through the phone and into the room, proving the lawyer called them straight away
like we thought he would.
"You selfish fucking whore!"
Kallie flinches before rushing out of the apartment wearing only tiny shorts and a sports bra. My sneering, "The lawyer
should be in touch," following her, making her stiffen. The bitch knows her plans have failed.
I shake my head and look at Tech. "Can we change the locks and place this shithole up for sale? Sell it furnished—it can all
go, so put the asking price higher than it's worth. Once I grab Momma's ring, nothing in here is mine."
I only stayed here for the first month after our marriage. After the ultrasound appointment, I stayed at the club or the
Victorian cottage-style house with a wraparound porch I built when the bitch said she was pregnant.
Tech nods as I sigh in relief before rasping, "A couple of weeks, and I can finally get my dick wet," making the boys laugh.
Fuck, I'm finally free. I’m never going through this shit again.
Too bad, when I made that promise, I didn’t know I'd meet the two most perfect people, two people who would steal my
heart and become my everything.

Olivia – 18 Years Old

I SWALLOW hard as I look down at the two pink lines.

Oh crap.
I blink, my tears wanting to fall. This cannot be happening. I had sex once, fricking once–which was terrible, by the way,
and I ended up pregnant.
Why, why, why, why?
Damn it.
 I shake my head as I stand in my small light pink bedroom, looking around it. I have a single bed pushed up against the
window, a desk with my second-hand laptop, a dresser, and a small closet.
How in the hell can I fit a baby in here?
My mother is going to kill me.
My tears start to fall as my legs give out, my hands covering my eyes as I sob. I'm only eighteen. I live with my single mom,
who works her ass off to keep a roof over our heads. How am I going to bring a baby into this?
How can I put this on my mother?
Sobs wrack my body. How can I do this?
My phone vibrates on my desk. I shake my head, trying to control my breathing, realizing this breakdown can't be healthy
for the baby. I stand up and I take a deep breath, grabbing my cell, my heart sinking even more when I see who it is; the one
person I need right now. But he’s been ignoring me.

Phil: I'm sorry I ghosted you. Can we meet? x

I shake my head. How am I going to tell him?

Phil was my high school boyfriend up until six weeks ago. He was the soccer star while I was the head cheerleader for the
football team. I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him, and I know he wasn't in love with me either. But he was my best
friend until things took a bad turn, and he ghosted me. I tried calling him several times, but he ignored every call, dodged me at
school, and even told everyone we had broken up. But he never told me; I heard it from the snickering girls in my class. I get he
was embarrassed, but he knew he didn't break my heart. If anything, mine broke for him.
I sniffle as the image of his sad brown eyes fills my mind.

"OK, darling, are you sure about this?"

I blink and give him a shy smile. "A bit late to ask that, don’t ’cha think?"
He chuckles a little, kissing my lips gently. I sigh, but not in contentment as usual; there's no spark of joy, no flutter in
my stomach. Heck, he's currently naked on top of me, and I'm not wet for him. If anything, I feel like this is wrong.
He's even had to cover his member with lube, but after half a year of dating, I feel like I owe it to him.
How romantic!
I swallow, feeling like we're making a mistake, but rasp anyway, "I'm ready, Phil. I want you to take it."
He nods before kissing me again, and then pushing himself inside me. He stops just at my barrier. He pulls back,
furrows his brows, then thrusts that last bit, tearing through my innocence, taking it as I take his.
I gasp but not in pleasure. Pain shoots through my thighs and lower stomach, my insides feeling like they are being torn
apart.
Oh my God, that flipping hurts.
I dig my nails into his shoulders as he pulls out, not giving me time to adjust to him before pushing back in hard,
causing more pain, the lube not helping at all. If anything, it flipping burns. I look at Phil, hoping he can see how
uncomfortable I am, but his eyes are squeezed shut like he's in pain.
We are incompatible; we shouldn't be doing this, but I owe him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, too, not wanting to look at his expressions as pain shoots through me, his jerky hip movements
going faster and faster before he grunts. I feel him get a little larger, hurting me more, before he stills.
I swallow hard. If that's what sex feels like all the time, then I can honestly admit I'd be happy never to do it again!
Phil breathes hard as a little bit of sweat drips from his forehead, his blonde hair a little messy. He quickly removes his
member from inside me—and not with ease. I gasp in pain as he falls down beside me, only just fitting on my small bed. I
look down and notice blood between my thighs.
I swallow hard. Am I supposed to bleed that much?
Probably not.
Phil clears his throat before grabbing hold of the bloodied condom, then throws it on my floor, making me cringe.
He looks my way. Turmoil shines through his brown eyes, making me furrow my brows.
Finally, he opens his mouth and speaks, admitting something I don't think he's ever admitted to himself, making my
heart hurt for him.
"Fuck, I-I think I'm gay."

BACK IN THE NOW, with a pregnancy test in my hand, I blink as more tears trail down my cheeks. After his revelation, he looked
at me in wide-eyed shock before jumping over me. He quickly dressed, mumbling about calling me before he left me lying in
bed, in pain and naked, thighs smeared with blood. I was angry with him, but not because of his revelation. I knew we weren't
compatible the moment he entered me. For six months prior to that night, we barely touched each other. He'd wrap his arm
around my shoulders when he took me out, but it felt more platonic. Still, I was angry at how easily he left me in that state and
ignored me afterward.
I wasn't just his girlfriend; I was his best friend. I was the one who was always there for him when he called, and yet he
pushed me away.
Shaking my head, I message him back.

Me: meet me at Baked Goods.

I don't send him a kiss emoji, still pissed at him and even more pissed because, despite using a condom, he knocked me up.
Come to think of it, when I picked it up off the floor where he threw it, it hadn’t felt full.
Crap, did it break, and we both just didn't notice because of how bad the sex was?
With a sigh, I wipe the tears from my face before rushing out of my room with my keys and phone. I rush through our small
apartment, happy Mom is at work today. She's a nurse and loves her job, working hard to put food on our table. My sperm
donor is a deadbeat and vanished with his mistress when I was three, after he spent years mentally abusing my mother.
Good riddance, as far as I'm concerned.
I jog down the three flights of stairs before heading to my beat-up Ford. I got it for a steal at the junkyard, and Phil fixed it
for me. I climb in, and it starts the first time, making me smile as I pull out of my parking spot.
Within ten minutes of leaving my apartment, I'm pulling up outside Baked Goods, the bakery in town. I work there most
evenings after school and most Saturdays to help Mom with the bills, while getting the full experience for when I go to pastry
school. I immediately notice Phil sitting near the window, his head down as he plays with his phone. He looks stressed.
I sigh.
He either wants to apologize or beg me to keep silent about why we 'broke up.' If it's the latter, then I will not be
responsible for my actions—just saying.
Shaking my head, I climb out of my car and head into the shop. I smile at Florence, the owner's granddaughter, but she
sneers at me, making me want to roll my eyes. I don't. I like my job, and I know she can cause a lot of trouble for me.
Phil notices me when I head his way, and he stands, his fingers fidgeting with his blue jacket.
When I get closer, I raise a brow at him and ask, "Do I hug you or knee you in the balls?"
He winces before opening his arms. "I'd rather the hug."
With a sigh, I walk into his waiting arms, which instantly wrap around me.
"I'm so sorry, Liv,” he murmurs into my hair.
I nod then pull away, kissing his cheek before taking a seat. He sits opposite me, sighing, running his hand through his hair.
"You must hate me."
I snort. "I don't hate you; I hate how you treated me. I love you, Phil."
He winces. "Liv…."
I smirk and butt in, "I love you platonically."
He furrows his brows, and I sigh, grabbing his hands.
"We never really kissed Phil; we never did anything romantically. You're basically like a big brother, which is gross
because I gave you my virginity."
He shudders. "As soon as I went inside you, I knew it was wrong, and fuck Liv, the only way I could come was to
picture….picture…." I squeeze his hands, getting his attention. He finishes, "…was to picture another man."
He nods, embarrassment etching his features. "I'm sorry, Liv."
I nod. "Me too. I knew it was wrong, and it hurt a lot, then you left me lying there in pain with my thighs covered in blood."
He winces again, shame etching his features, and I sigh.
"These past six months, we haven't really been dating. Not really. But you're my best friend, Phil."
He nods. "I didn't even know I was gay. I-I mean, I found other men attractive, but I just thought it was normal."
I squeeze his hands. "It's ok, Phil. And whenever you're ready to come out, I'll stand by you." He nods, his eyes tearing up,
and I take a deep breath and shake my head. "What we did, it-it was bad." He winces but nods. "So bad, which makes this
unfair."
He furrows his brows. "What do you mean?"
I swallow hard before rasping, "I'm pregnant," making him freeze in shock, his face paling.
I nod. That is how I felt this morning.
He stutters, "B-but it-it was bad, and I-I I'm gay."
I nod again because it was bad, and he is gay. However, his sperm didn't care, and neither did my egg, so now we're a
broken-up best-friend couple about to bring a baby into the world, and we have no idea how to parent. And we haven't even
told our parents yet.
We're so screwed.
 1

S MOKEY – 26 Years Old

I GRUNT as I slam my hips forward, Cherrie moaning as I stretch her little ass while Hairy pulls out of her cunt.
She's straddling him while I'm standing behind her, my hands gripping her hips. Hairy leans forward, taking her nipple into
his mouth, biting it, while I wrap my arm around her, placing two fingers on her clit, strumming it hard and fast as my hips
assault her hard, as Hairy pushes in every time I pull out.
"O-Oh god, yes, more, more, more," she moans. I thrust me hips faster and Hairy thrusts up into her harder.
"That's it, slut, take our cocks," Hairy grunts, pinching and pulling at her nipples. I can feel her ass starting to tighten and
pulse around my cock, making my spine tingle, so I pinch her clit hard, forcing her orgasm as she screams out in pleasure.
Hairy groans. "Fuck, she just squirted all over me."
I grin as he comes inside her, and my balls tighten. I quickly pull out, not one to come inside a girl after my ex's bullshit,
even in the ass, unlike the idiot beneath us who didn't even wrap it up.
I grab my cock, removing the rubber before squirting my cum all over her ass, painting it, and groan in pleasure. I grunt.
"Fuck.” I slowly squeeze my dick, ensuring all the cum is expelled, before standing back and grabbing my jeans.
I get dressed as a moan sounds behind me. I look toward Hairy and Cherrie. He's moved her onto the bed, her ass in the air,
licking all my cum off her ass while his fingers thrust inside it.
Shaking my head, I turn and grab my shit, wanting to leave Hairy's room, happy I got my dick wet but not willing to stay for
when it gets crazier. I’m already freaked out that he just ate my fucking cum from Cherrie's ass. I shudder as I place my feet into
my boots and grab the doorknob. The last time Hairy and I shared a woman, he wanted to fuck my ass, or have me fuck him
while he fucked the woman. You can bet I ran out of there like my ass was on fire. Apparently, he's tried it with several
brothers, so now, if we share a woman, I always leave after I've come, instead of going back for more.
Though, this is the first time he's eaten my cum off a woman.
It's like the fucker gets lost in lust, and if that's what he's into, then I'm happy for him, each to their own and all that, but
that's just not for me.
I hear Cherries, "Smokey..." whine as I shut the door, making me chuckle as I head to my room at the club. Since my
divorce, I've sold the apartment and everything in it, and now spend most my nights here. I have my house, but I don't find it
homey.
I enter my room and go to my shower to wash the sex off me. I promised Snake I'd pick up some cakes from Baked Goods
for the BBQ because he didn't have time to make any, now that he's Prez. I've taken over as Road Captain from my father, and I
love the title. I get to go on each road trip, while enjoying all the pussy I can handle, now that I'm no longer tied down. It
doesn't stop Kallie from still trying to contact me, though.
Last I heard, Travis met someone else and married her, much to Kallie's displeasure. Travis and his wife even adopted.
Now, my ex-wife is hoping to win me back.
Never going to fucking happen.
With a sigh, I climb into the shower.
Half an hour later, I'm pulling up outside of Baked Goods. I look in the window and notice Florence and automatically
shiver in disgust. Every club party we have, she's there, hoping to become a club whore.
Like that would ever happen; the woman is a nut, though, she seems right up Hairy's alley.
Sighing, I climb out of the club's SUV, placing my sunglasses on my head, my fingers itching for a smoke. But I push the
urge down and head inside the shop. Florence’s honey-colored eyes light up as soon as she sees me. She stands, flattening her
dyed red hair before pulling her already low-cut strappy top down. I roll my eyes and shake my head.
"Hey, Smokey…" she coos as I get near the counter.
I reply with what I hope to be a normal, ‘I am not flirting with you smile,' before I state, "Here to pick up an order for the
club, please, Florence."
She narrows her eyes, pulling her top down further—so much further that I'm surprised her nipples haven't popped out. She
huffs in frustration when I just give her a bored look, handing her the order form.
She looks down at the paper and sighs. "Our baker, Olivia, made all this today before she clocked out. I'll go get it."
I give her a nod. Apparently, this Olivia is one hell of a baker; the women in the club love her cakes.
Sighing, I lean against the counter, waiting for Florence, hoping she'll hurry her ass up so I can have a smoke. But
something, or more like someone, grips a hold of my cut just as coffee spills down my white top. A woman's gasp hits my ears
and my fucking cock twitches.
What the fuck?
I growl as the hot coffee starts to sting my chest, and I pull my white top from my body as I turn to the person still holding
on to my cut. I halt as my gaze meets the cutest blue eyes. The little girl grins at me, her ginger hair a wild mess of curls.
I smile back.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, sir." I look up and notice a petite woman holding the little girl. She's the spitting image of the
little girl but can't be much older than twenty. Her ginger hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head, her whole focus on the
cutey still clutching my cut.
"April, let go of the man's vest, baby girl."
I snort, making her look at me—and, suddenly, I feel like I've been knocked off my feet. Holy shit, she is beautiful. Her
heart-shaped face has some freckles artfully splattered beneath her light blue eyes. I feel like I've been hit in the fucking chest.
I clear my throat. "It's, uh, a cut, Freckles. A brother can take real offense to it being called a vest."
She blinks several times. And where the hell did that nickname come from? It just popped up out of nowhere…and it fits.
Fuck, is this how my dad felt about my momma at first sight?
She swallows hard. "Uh, sorry, sir."
I butt in, "It's Jonny."
Fuck me, I just gave her my given name.
Shit….
She blinks again and swallows hard. "Ok, well, uh Jonny. I'm sorry, and I'm real sorry about the top." She looks down at the
cutie that still has a hold of my cut, and is trying to climb into my arms. I laugh, then I grab her under her arms, holding her
against my chest like it's the most natural thing.
The woman sucks in a breath. The little girl, April, starts to play with my lip ring, making me chuckle. "And how old are
you, little red?"
The woman clears her throat and wrings her hands. "She's uh, just turned one. I'm, uh, sorry about this; she's never grabbed
a hold of someone like this before."
I give her a gentle smile. "That's alright, she's adorable."
The woman does the most beautiful thing; she fucking smiles wide.
Fuck me.
I swallow hard. My gaze locked on the woman before me, tension rising between us.
Florence breaks our connection by clearing her throat. I sigh and look her way, her gaze flitting between me and the beauty,
the four boxes of cakes on the counter in front of us.
"Olivia, I thought your shift finished five minutes ago? Why are you still here?"
I raise a brow as Olivia, the fucking amazing baker who the women in the club love, rolls her eyes. "Florence, I was
walking out but April wanted to say hi."
I look at April and smile before blowing her a raspberry, making her giggle, and my heart melts.
Florence scoffs, "Using your child to grab a man, a biker at that? Are you that desperate?"
I look at Florence in shock as anger takes hold of me. She flinches at my look.
Olivia speaks. "If you want him so bad, Flo, then just ask him out like a normal person, instead of trying to embarrass me."
I look at Olivia with a furrowed brow as she shakes her head at Florence, who is slowly turning red.
Little Red is taken from my arms, making me scowl and April's bottom lip pop out. Olivia gives me a small smile before
looking at the little girl. "Say bye to Jonny, baby girl."
I take a step forward as she looks at Florence again and states, "If you keep up with the unearned insults, you can explain to
your grandmother why her hardworking baker has quit without notice." She turns around and leaves the shop. making my heart
freeze.
I look at a now pale-faced Florence and rasp, "There is something seriously wrong with a woman who puts down another
one for just talking to a man, especially in front of an infant. Grow up, Flo. You're never going to get a biker."
She flinches at my words as I rush out of the bakery. I look up and down the street before I notice Olivia trying to get her
daughter into a car seat in the back of an old Ford that looks like it has seen better days. April is crying, her hands flapping
toward the bakery, making my heart do something funny in my chest.
 I don't know why the little girl has latched onto me, but I'll fucking take it.
I rush over to them, April seeing me first, her glistening blue eyes brightening. I gently put my hand on Olivia's back,
making her jump as I guide her away from the car seat and rasp, "Let me, Freckles." I gently clip the small girl in. She grins at
me, her hand going to my lip ring again, making me grin. I very gently kiss her forehead. April closes her eyes and coos before
I grab a little giraffe from the seat beside her and give it to her. I shut the door, and turn to see her momma looking real
confused.
I cock my head to the side. "Are you alright, Freckles?"
She blinks and clears her throat. "Uh, yeah, I…uh…just. Damn, she's never done this before."
I grin. "It could be my deep forest scented body wash."
She snorts and shakes her head, her eyes going to Little Red. "Well, uh, thank you for that, and again, I'm real sorry about
the shirt and the coffee. It surprised me when she grabbed you, and I tripped…I…"
I cut her off by cupping her cheek, making her freeze, her beautiful light blue eyes widening. I smile. "Go on a date with
me." Her eyes grow as big as dinner plates, if that's possible, making me grin. "Just one date."
She blinks a few times. "I…I, uh, I have a kid."
I grin and nod. "I know, and she's fucking perfect."
Her eyes soften before her gaze scours my expression. "I have a lot of baggage; I'm sure you'd be better off with someone
like Flo."
I snort, my hand cupping her cheek harder. "I'm sure that I want you. Come on, Livvy, one date."
She blinks a few times another new nickname before looking at her daughter.
I coax, "If she's latched onto me like that, then surely you have to see for yourself why."
Ok, that was a dick move using her kid, but still, I'd use anything for just one date to win this girl over. I know it works by
the small nod she gives me, making my fucking day.
Fuck me—I think I've found my someones.
 2

Olivia – 22 Years Old – Three Months Later

I RUSH AROUND my cramped room, April's bed just fitting on the side wall near the door, her changing table, thankfully, fitting
on top. My small dresser is now hers, too. I still live with my mom, unable to save for an apartment and my own bakery
simultaneously, but she doesn't mind. She loves her granddaughter to pieces.
When I first told her I was pregnant, she asked when Phil and I would be getting married because it was the 'right thing to
do,' which, in my eyes, was not. Not every pregnancy is intentional, which I told my mother. Phil’s parents kicked him out when
he refused to marry me, and they didn’t change their minds when he admitted he was gay.
Mom soon changed her tune about marriage, was extremely supportive, and even let him stay here until he got his own
place. She has been a rock for the both of us, and I don't know what I would have done without her.
I managed to finish high school and get my culinary degree all because of my amazing mother, while Phil only has three
years left until he has his degree in architecture, again, all with the help and support of my mom.
The woman is a saint.
"Liv, I think Smokey is here."
I freeze mid-leg in my dark jeans at my mom's voice through the crack of my door. Crap, I'm not ready.
"Stall him, Mom," I shout back, her chuckle echoing through my door, making me shake my head.
When my darling little devil child clutched onto Jonny's cut, I thought I would be sick. I'd never met any men from the MC,
but I’d met and made cakes for their mothers, who are lovely. I didn't know how the man would react to a baby grabbing hold
of something they find sacred and the hot coffee I spilled all over his white shirt.
I thought he would blow up on me, but he didn't. Instead, he asked me out.
How did that even happen?
We've been dating for three months. If I'm at the bakery, he pops in to see me, much to Florence's dismay. Heck, he's even
gone on picnic in the park dates with me three or four times a week just to see April, who has fallen in love with him. Me, I'm
not sure how I feel, yet. I know my heart flutters when I see him, and I feel sick when I don't hear from him after a few hours.
Phil says I'm in love with him, and it's okay to be, but I don't know.
I've never been in love, so how should I know?
I quickly put on my dark brown cowgirl boots, smiling at the memory of Phil's reaction from three months ago.

I PULL up outside the apartment complex before getting my girl out. Her eyes have teared up again. I sigh, rubbing my nose
against hers as I carry her inside. I don't understand why she latched onto the biker, Jonny, the way she did. I mean, I can't
really blame her. He's over six feet tall, full of muscles and tattoos that make my lady bits tingle, which has never happened
to me before. She was obsessed with the lip ring on his full bottom lip. Also, his brow is pierced, and his black hair is messy
on top and short on the sides. His piercing blue eyes looked at me with such intensity that I thought I would pass out.
The man was a work of art.
Sighing, I grunt as I walk up the last flight of stairs, wishing this place had an elevator.
When I get to my door, Phil automatically opens it with a grin, which soon fades, and he furrows his brows at a teary-
eyed April. "What happened?"
April starts to cry again, making me groan, knowing her problem. I pass her over to her daddy and walk inside. Mom is
in the kitchen, her brows furrowed, looking at her granddaughter.
"What's up with my squishy?"
I snort at her new nickname. Last week, it was pumpkin pie.
"Where do I start?"
 Phil comes over and passes April to her grandmother before they both look at me. April leans her head on my mom's
shoulder, and I swallow hard.
I look at Phil and mutter, "I may have gotten a date with a biker—no thanks to your precious daughter there."
They both blink at me before, and very slowly and extremely creepily, I might add, grin.
"How?" Phil asks, and I sigh before I explain to them how April latched onto him. The further into the story I get, the
wider their grins grow, weirding me out. By the time I'm finished, they're both basically bouncing on the balls of their feet,
and I shake my head at them.
"Don't get too excited. This will probably just be one date and he’ll never ask me out again."

I BLINK as Jonny's voice echoes through my door, and I smile a little, grabbing my jacket. One date turned into two, then three,
and so on. For the last three months, we must have been out together, as a couple, over twenty times. The other times, April has
been with us.
I know I told them not to get their hopes about my new dating life. I was apprehensive, to say the least. But, that first night,
when he picked me up on his bike and when I told Phil his name was Jonny, Phil and Mom basically squealed like little
schoolgirls.
Turns out only the women they see a future with are allowed on the back of their bikes. Also, they are the only ones who
are allowed to call them by their given names. Jonny’s club road name is Smokey, apparently.
Shaking my head, I leave my room and head to the small living area. I smile seeing Jonny talking to Mom like they've
known each other for years, while my mother looks at him with wedding bells in her eyes. I want to snort; it's been three
months, and he may still get fed up with me.
Stopping at the black couch, I clear my throat, making him look my way. A smile automatically appears on his face, causing
me to smile back. He takes in my simple outfit of skinny jeans and a red sweater, while I look over his cut, black V-neck t-shirt,
showcasing his tattooed arms, and dark-washed jeans.
The man should be a model.
He looks around the room, furrowing his brows. "Where's Little Red? She's normally hanging off my arm right about now."
I grin as my mom chuckles at his pout.
"She's with her daddy for the next two nights."
He frowns but nods. I have yet to speak much about Phil to him. He knows things didn't work out, just not why. I still feel
like it's Phil's secret to tell, even though it's no longer a secret. That night wasn’t the best night for either of us, but it’s worse
for him. If anything, it’s up to him to tell Jonny once they finally meet.
He clears his throat. "You ready then, Freckles?"
I nod as he kisses my mom's cheek, making her grin wide before he heads my way. Once he’d close enough, he wraps his
arm around my waist then dips his head, his lips touching mine gently, making my stomach flutter.
It's not our first kiss, but it feels like it every time.
Twenty minutes later, Jonny is pulling up to some metal gates. A man with a cut opens them and waves at me. I wave back
before gripping Jonny's cut again as he takes off down the road, past the big metal warehouse, and down a dirt path. He pulls
up in front of the most beautiful Victorian-style cottage. It's a light yellow, with a white wrap-around porch.
It's gorgeous.
Entranced, Jonny helps me off the bike, then takes my helmet off as I stare at the perfect building. He chuckles then grabs
my hand, dragging me up the steps. He opens the door and guides me in. I stop in the light gray with trim living room. A dark
gray couch sits in the middle of the room, facing a black fireplace, and the TV mounted to the wall above it. Straight ahead is
an open concept kitchen, separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. The dining area is just to my right.
Jonny wraps his arms around my waist, gently kissing the crook of my neck, his deep forest scent hitting my senses as I lean
back into his embrace.
"Your place is amazing," I rasp.
I feel him smile against my skin as he murmurs, "I'm glad you like it, Livvy. Come on, let me show you something."
I nod as he kisses my neck again, then gently moves away from me, grabbing my hand and pulling me up the stairs. When
we get to the top, he guides me to a room on the right of the hallway and opens the door. I gasp as I walk inside the pink
princess room, complete with a princess bed.
With wide eyes, I look at Jonny, who shrugs and states, "I thought, if you liked it enough, then you'd want to spend more
time here with me. And I know April needs somewhere to sleep," he remarks me a smirk. "There's also a mini playground in
my yard, and a playroom in the covered porch."
I blink my eyes fast to stop the tears before looking around the room again.
Did he do all this for April? For me?
Jonny walks over to me and cups my cheek before confessing, "Livvy, I needed you to see that I'm all in with you. I know
you've been holding back, and I don't blame you, but this here, right now, is me telling you I'm in this. I want you, and I want
her."
Tears fall as I push up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips against his.
This perfect man I don't think I'll ever deserve.
He wraps his arms around my waist, and my hands glide up and over his broad shoulders as his tongue enters my mouth. I
seduce it with my own, moaning at his taste as his hands move down and grip my ass, lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his
waist as he starts to stride out of the room, our kiss never stopping, only intensifying.
One moment, I'm gripping him tightly, and the next, my back hits soft bedding. His lips leave mine, going to the column of
my throat. My legs quiver with anticipation as he gently glides my sweater up.
This is happening. I'm actually going to have sex again—the first time since April was conceived.
I really hope this time it's better.
 3

Smokey

F UCK, her skin feels so smooth.

I gently glide my fingertips along her tanned skin as I remove her red sweater. I chuck it on the floor as my eyes take in her
beautiful body.
"Fuck me, you are beautiful."
Her cheeks redden, a blush covering her chest and neck, making me smile. I lean down and take her delicious full lips
again, my tongue pushing through them to tangle with hers. I groan as I grind myself on her, my dick needing release.
Three months—that's how long I've gone without sex, but this beauty is fucking worth it.
I break the kiss, moving down to nip her jaw before kissing her neck, sucking on it, ensuring I leave my mark as my right
hand goes behind her back, unclipping her lacy, pink bra, freeing large tits that make my mouth water. As soon as I toss her bra
away, my mouth latches onto her nipple, sucking it into my mouth as my tongue circles it. She moans, arching her chest further
into me, making me groan at how fucking responsive she is. I move to the other nipple as I remove my cut, throwing it into my
room, aiming the chair near the window. I kiss down my girl's body, my hands going to the button of her jeans.
I kiss down her flat stomach etched with little silver tiger stripes. I smile, knowing they’re from carrying her daughter. I
grip her jeans and panties.
Very slowly, I drag them down, my lips going to her pubic bone, then gently skimming her enlarged clit, making her gasp. I
continue dragging her jeans down her toned legs, pulling the wedges off her feet at the same time. I throw the jeans and panties
onto the floor as I stand up, her shoes landing with a thud. I look at my beautiful girl lying on my black sheets, my heart
pounding at how fucking lucky I am. Meeting her was by chance, but pushing myself into her life and heart was all on purpose.
I suck my lip ring into my mouth as I remove my shirt, her eyes dilating at my tatted body before focusing on my hands as I
undo my jeans. I toe off my boots and drag my jeans down my legs, Livvy’s eyes widen, noticing my cock or more like the
Prince Albert piercing right through the head of my cock. I grin at how much pleasure she's about to feel, and climb over her,
needing a taste of her. I glide my hands up the inside of her thighs, sending shivers through her body as I force her legs open.
Seeing her wet pussy dripping for me makes my mouth water.
Fuck.
I lean down and gently lick her clit.
"Jonny…" she gasps as I suck the little bundle of nerves into my mouth, her taste instantly making me groan, sending
vibrations through her, and making her lift her hips. Using my forearm, I press down on her stomach to keep her still as I put my
finger at her entrance, slowly pushing it in, then pulling out, and then adding another finger.
"Fuck, baby, you’re tight," I rasp against her clit before sucking it again.
She’s so fucking tight that, if she didn't have a daughter, I'd believe she was a virgin.
I curl my fingers inside her then gently thrust them as my suction intensifies on her clit. Her body convulses beneath me as I
nip her clit. She screams my name as fluid gushes into my mouth, making me groan.
She tastes fucking divine.
I don't stop my assault on the clit or my fingers inside her tight, wet heat until I've rung her orgasm out of her. Once she’s
done, I kiss her clit one more time.
Slowly, I remove my fingers, making eye contact with my girl's lust-filled eyes before sucking the digits into my mouth,
groaning. I bend down and kiss up my girl's body. I take a nipple into my mouth, nipping it before circling my tongue around the
small peak, and then I continue kissing up her neck, nipping her jaw before taking her mouth with mine, letting her taste herself.
I glide my hands up her arms before linking our fingers, pushing them into the mattress as I place the head of my cock at her
entrance. I feel her stiffen, but I just think it's because of the piercing, so I kiss her more gently before slowly sliding inside her.
Her cunt tightens hard around me, and I have to go slowly in fear that I’ll come too quickly.
She gasps, and I groan as I bottom out, staying still for a few seconds to let her get used to my size. When she wiggles, I
break the kiss and lock eyes with her but keep our lips just touching. I slowly move my hips back and then slam them forward.
She moans, squeezing my hands as pleasure overtakes her features. I take her lips again, obsessed with them.
I move my hips with purpose, thrusting slowly but forcefully, making love to a woman who has stolen my heart. I tilt my
hips, making sure to hit that magic spot, my Prince Albert rubbing against her, giving her more pleasure as our hands squeeze
tighter. I can feel my spine tingle as her cunt tightens and flutters around my cock, making my hips go faster, our kiss becoming
more frenzied. Her hand squeezes even tighter against mine as her orgasm washes over her for the second time, fluid gushing
between us as I steal her screams, swallowing them as she swallows my groan. My balls tighten just before my cum squirts
inside her, painting her walls. Once I know I've completely emptied myself inside, I thrust forward, planting myself deep,
enjoying her warmth. I slow our kiss to gentle pecks.
I squeeze her fingers, gently rubbing my nose against hers.
"You do know," I rasp, "I brought you here for a meal, but I'm not complaining."
She giggles, and I groan as she flutters around me, making her giggle more. I lean forward, nip her jaw, and whisper, "Mean
woman," making her grin. I kiss her again, not able to help myself. Every day, I have woven myself into her life, unwilling to
let her get away.
Her and that little girl of hers, they're mine. I knew it the moment we locked eyes, and I understand it now; they're becoming
my sole focus.
“You hungry, baby?"
She smiles and nods, her stomach grumbling, making me chuckle. I slowly slide out of her, making her gasp. I kiss her again
before climbing off her, grabbing the tissues from the nightstand, then cleaning her up. She sucks in a breath at my attentions. I
smile at her before throwing the tissue in the trash near the bed. I help her up, then grab the shirt I was wearing, placing it over
her head. She grins wide as I put my jeans back on, leaving my feet and chest bare.
Olivia looks at me with a softness that makes my heart pound, and I smile as I wrap my arm around her waist. I guide her
downstairs to, hopefully soon, our kitchen. I help her sit at the kitchen counter before grabbing a couple of plates and a drink
and place them in front of my girl. Then I don oven mitts and grab the lasagna from the oven. Olivia groans at the smell, making
my cock twitch. I place the baking dish in front of her.
I pick the spatula up and point it at her. "No moaning at food my brother cooked for us."
She giggles. "Then maybe you should have cooked it."
I shake my head with a laugh as I start to dish up, placing some on a plate in front of her. She begins to dig in, making me
grin pridefully.
My front door opens, and I groan at my mother's voice. Olivia's eyes widen; she’s only wearing my shirt. She tries to pull it
down to cover herself completely, then pats her curly hair. I shake my head, dropping my chin to my chest.
Fucking mother.
"Are you both decent?" Momma calls out. "You kept this girl away from me for three months, son, I'm not waiting any
longer, and I expect to meet that angel soon, too."
Livvy snorts before taking a drink of the soda I placed by her plate as my mother rounds the corner. I raise a brow at her,
but she just shrugs, her brown eyes instantly going to my girl.
She looks at her from head to toe, making me narrow my eyes as Livvy squirms in her seat.
"Momma…" I warn, but she waves me off before rounding the counter and taking my girl into her arms. Livvy’s eyes
widened in shock, making me cough to cover my snort.
"Momma, let my girl go so she can eat, please."
Momma looks at me and narrows her eyes again, but does as I say. She looks at the lasagna, and then at me. Her eyes
widen, her puppy dog look coming into full effect, making me groan while my girl outright laughs, then grabs the spatula and
dishes some up on my plate for my momma.
Dammit.
I playfully narrow my eyes at my girl before grabbing another plate while my mother grins wide and states, "Don't worry,
son. I'll just eat this quickly, then leave you two to it, as long as you promise to bring April to be her future grandma
tomorrow."
I snort at Livvy’s wide eyes before shaking my head. "Momma, Little Red is with her father for the next two days."
Momma furrows her brows, looking at my girl. "She, uh, has a good relationship with her father?"
Ah crap, did momma think April's father isn't involved?
I go to intervene, not wanting momma to upset my girl, but Livvy speaks up.
"She does. He's the best father and always puts her first. I lucked out in that department. He's currently in college."
I smile a little, something tugging in my chest at the fondness in her words.
Does she still love her ex?
"You, uh, have a good relationship with him then?"
I flinch at momma's insinuation of a relationship. Her thoughts gone to the same place as mine, but Livvy ignores it and
smiles wide.
"Of course! He's my best friend."
Momma smiles, but it's fake; it doesn't reach her eyes. She's not happy with Livvy’s words.
She raises an unimpressed brow at me as my girl takes a bite of the lasagna. You can see the apprehension in her eyes.
Momma doesn't agree with our relationship, which means she’s going to latch onto my ex again.
I sigh. Great.
Livvy moans. "Oh my God," she blurts, making us both look at her, and I laugh seeing the adoration on her face. She’s
looking at the baking dish.
She looks at me and teases, "Maybe I chose the wrong brother," making me mock glare at her. She laughs but continues to
eat.
I look at my mother, who is scowling.
Crap.
 4

Olivia – Two Months Later

I SIGH as I gently brush April's curls into a ponytail. She keeps bouncing in excitement knowing she's about to see “her” Jonny.
Today's his MC's family BBQ, and he's invited us. April is excited, whereas I'm not. I haven't felt very welcome after
meeting Rose a few months ago. She wasn't happy when I mentioned Phil being my best friend, but I ignored her look. I have
never given Jonny a reason to doubt my loyalty to him, and I won't lie about Phil being a big part of my life or our daughter’s.
He is my best friend and the father of my child, a really good one at that.
If she doesn't like that, well, it's just tough, really, I won't push the father of my child out of my life to appease her or
Jonny's feelings.
April giggles at her princess pony TV show, and I smile just as Phil enters the room, exciting her.
"Daddy," she squeals, running over to him. I shake my head, and he grins, catching her.
"I thought you had class?" I ask.
He smiles and says, "I do, but I wanted to come by and ensure you're okay first."
I roll my eyes and scoff, "Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
He smirks. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're going to a family BBQ with a man you're madly in love with, and his
mother hates you because I'm your best friend, and you haven't told her I'm gay."
I blink. "I'm not in love…." He raises a brow, cutting off my words, and I sigh. "Fine, I do love him, but he hasn't exactly
stopped his family from making me feel unwanted, has he?"
He sighs as I put my wedges on and says, "Why don't you tell them, darling? I’ve already given you the okay."
I shrug. "I was going to until she became judgmental about me. Now, I guess it's just the principle of the thing."
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Stubborn, stubborn girl."
I just grin because, yes, I am, and ask, "Walk us out?"
He smiles with a nod before kissing our girl, who giggles, before wrapping his arm around my shoulders, walking us out of
Mom's apartment and down the stairs.
When we get outside, he hands me our girl, who blows raspberries at him, making him laugh. He kisses my head, then
rasps, "At least tell him so that he knows he has nothing to worry about."
When he moves back, I furrow my brows in confusion and ask, "Surely he knows he doesn't, right? I've spent most of my
time with him and made him a priority in my life, which I have never done before. I mean, the man should feel quite special
right now."
He laughs before stating, "I know you have; you and our girl have stayed at his house a lot, but that may not be enough for
him. Just speak to him, darling."
I sigh but nod. "I will, I promise. Now get your ass to class."
He chuckles but nods before kissing mine and then our daughter's head.
"I'll see you both tomorrow." He points at me. "Open your heart; you deserve it."
He points at our daughter. "Be good for your second daddy."
I snort at his words, our girl giggling, and he shrugs.
"What? We both know that's where it's going. I couldn't be happier, and the sooner you tell him about me, the better,
because then he'll feel comfortable meeting me, and then I get to meet some good-looking hunky men."
I smile and shake my head at his words, taking our girl to my car before strapping her in. Phil honks his horn as he drives
off. I wave before climbing into the driver's seat, determined to set Rose straight while hoping to lessen Jonny's fears because,
seriously, he's become everything to me.
Not long later, a prospect lets us in with a wave, April waving like mad, making him grin. I pull up near the other cars and
swallow hard. Every time I've come here, which has been a lot, the brothers are hostile with me while the women sneer. Last
week, one woman muttered how April isn't welcome, which pissed me off. I made up an excuse and walked out with her, Jonny
not following, too busy chatting shit with his brothers. When he messaged three hours later—which is how long it took for him
to notice us gone—I just told him I didn't want to disturb him, that April was tired.
I didn't see him for three days after that.
With a sigh, I get out before rounding the car and getting my girl out. She smiles wide, her blue eyes shining with happiness,
melting my heart.
"Shall we go find Jon-Jon?"
She giggles. "Da-da two."
I laugh and shake my head, knowing Phil taught her that, the little shit.
With a smile, I walk us round the back where Jonny told us to go, my heart pounding like always when I know he's nearby.
We enter the gate, and a couple of brothers look my way, raising a brow before looking away again.
I swallow hard, knowing I'm not really welcome. One of their own has betrayed them, so they now have major trust issues,
and they don't trust me despite their brother thrusting himself into my life.
I'm not stupid; I knew what he was doing, and I actually liked it—he made me feel special for once.
I look around the yard. Lots of brothers are drinking and talking, but I only have one I want to see. I furrow my brows when
I don't see him before I finally lock eyes on his form, but he's not talking to a brother. Instead, he's up close with some blonde
girl who looks like she could be a supermodel. I stand still and watch for a second as she moves closer to him, her manicured
nails dragging down his arm.
He doesn't push her away. Instead, he looks down at her with fondness.
I blink my eyes, hoping I don't cry right now. I'm about to turn because the pain is too much but can't because my girl
decides now would be the time to make herself known and squeals, causing several eyes to look our way as she flaps her hands
toward Jonny. And instead of his face lighting up seeing us, he scowls at me, making me furrow my brows in confusion as the
woman grins at me, gripping his tatted arm. Rose glares at me from his right.
I tilt my head, not willing to get any closer, not willing to put my girl in harm's way. I don't think Jonny would ever hurt her,
but the woman gripping his arm looks nasty.
Jonny stands up straighter and narrows his eyes, the words that come out of his mouth breaking my heart, the heart I let him
in.
"Lying, cheating whores are not welcome here. So why don't you take yourself and your brat you tried to burden me with,
and get the fuck off club property."
April flinches at his tone, her eyes tearing up.
I clear my throat, not one to back away from a fight, especially when I'm being accused of something I haven't done.
I say, "And who exactly have I cheated on you with? When if I'm not with you or at work, I'm with the little girl who loves
you." He flinches. I narrow my eyes. "And next time you call my daughter a brat, Jonny, I'll castrate you."
He flinches again at me using his given name while the woman next to him sneers at me.
Rose steps forward. "My daughter-in-law here has video proof of you with your daughter's father looking all cozy, so don't
try to lie. Now do as my son Smokey asked and get your lying, cheating ass off club property. And take the spoilt brat with you
before I drag you out by your hair. Patch chasers are not welcome here."
He's married? Like, has a wife?
What the….
Anger shoots through me as I question, "You're married?"
His mother grins wide along with the beauty next to him, who I'm now guessing is his wife, but he ignores my question like
he hasn’t been cheating all this time.
He sneers at me. "Fucking leave now before I let Momma do as she threatened to."
When I don't move quick enough, he booms, "Now! I don’t want to see your cheating ass fucking face again!”
April screams in terror, placing her head into the crook of my neck, her little body shaking, making my anger burn all the
hotter.
Call me all the names under the sun, even threaten me, but no one—and I mean absolutely no one, upsets my girl.
Guilt shows on his face before he hides it, the women around us flinching at seeing my girl's distress, and I take a deep
breath, not wanting to traumatize her anymore. Very gently, I smooth my hand up and down my girl's back before I make eye
contact with him. He winces at the look in my eyes.
Gone is the girl who gave him her heart and, in her place, a very pissed-off mother.
I give him a nod, not willing to even speak to him—speak to any of them. I grip the silver bracelet he gave me last month
with his and my girl's birthstone on and rip it off my wrist, holding it out in front of me. I drop it in the dirt, turn around, and
walk out without looking back.
He has the nerve to stand there and act like I’ve cheated with my daughter’s gay father and yet he’s fucking married!
As I get to my car, I gently place my crying girl in her seat, giving her her stuffed giraffe as she sniffles, gripping it. I climb
into the driver's seat then spin out of my spot.
 The prospect furrows his brows when I skid near him, his eyes going to the several scratched bikes, but I look away from
him, keeping my eyes on the gate before he reluctantly opens it.
I speed off down the road without looking in my rearview mirror.
When I get a few miles down the road, I pull over and grab my phone, calling the one person I know will be there for me.
He answers on the third ring.
"Hey darling, I just got to school. Did you chicken out?"
I let out a sob as our daughter cries in the background.
"Get back home Olivia, I'll be there in ten."
He hangs up, and I try to collect myself, breathing through my sobs. I restart my car and head toward my apartment,
promising myself to never give another man a chance again.
My first boyfriend was gay, and the second one was married and nasty. I'm done with relationships.
 5

Smokey

I SWALLOW hard as Olivia's tires spin out of the club, several pinging noises can be heard as the brothers to curse, knowing
she's just spun rubble at half the fucking bikes. I grit my teeth as Kallie squeezes my arm, running her other hand up my chest.
She goes on her tiptoes, her lips going to my ear as she rasps, "Baby, let's go inside and get reacquainted. I've missed you."
I can see my father furrowing his brows at me while my mother looks giddy with Kallie's words. No one can see my
fucking heart is breaking bit by bit. Shaking my head, I shove her hands off me, making her and my mother gasp.
"Get the fuck off club property," I sneer and then walk away, heading inside. I hear footsteps behind me, but I know they are
my brother’s.
This fucking month has been shit. Hairy, a fucking club brother, turned traitor, raping the Untamed Hell Fire's princess and
holding her father captive for fucking years out of misplaced loyalty to his crazy ass mother. Now I find out my girl, the woman
I gave my heart too, is fucking her ex.
I get to the bar and nod to the prospect for a beer. Snake, Tech, and Tats are all sitting around me.
"Brother?"
I can hear the concern in Snake's voice, but I just shake my head. Yesterday, I was made the new VP, a role I still don't think
I'm good for, and now today, I've just lost the girl I was madly in love with and the little girl I saw as my own.
Fucking great.
I ignore Snake and take a sip of my drink. I hear Kallie screaming for me to give her another chance as she’s being escorted
out, causing the brothers to snort.
Tats tsks and asks, "Did she really think that she'd destroy your relationship and you'd give her another chance?"
I sigh before I grab my smokes, lighting one up. I've barely touched these since being with Livvy. I place the stick in my
mouth and inhale, holding it, before blowing it out.
Fuck, that's good shit.
"She didn't destroy it, she just showed me the truth, but yes, she is that delusional," I state, my heart hurting.
The brothers nod and scoff as I take another sip of my drink. My excitement at seeing my girls today is completely gone.

I GRINat Breaker as he tries to beat Doc at ping pong.

Fucking badass bikers, my ass.
Laughing, I take a sip of my drink before my mother stands beside me, making me sigh,
She shoves me a little. "Don't be like that. I know I haven't been very welcoming to Olivia. It's just her relationship with
her ex; it's concerning, darling. You're my son; I will always put you first."
I give her a smile. It worried me, too, but Livvy has proven how devoted she is to our relationship. "Momma, just give
her a break, yeah."
Momma sighs but nods before shouting can be heard near the gate. I growl, seeing Kallie rush in, the prospect from the
gate rushing after her.
"You cannot just fucking barge in here!"
I snort. "Tom, you should have just shot her."
Her eyes widen. "Wha.…” she gapes. She recovers, smirking, then says, “I've just caught your fling cheating."
I stiffen, my mother standing up straight, automatically believing her, and I sigh. "Leave, Kallie. Now."
She goes to say something, but Momma steps forward, making me growl at her, my father shaking his head at his wife's
actions.
Momma asks, “What proof do you have, because you know showing up here with that accusation is stupid?"
 She gives my mother a sweet smile and holds up her phone, a picture of my girl leaning against a man I know as April's
father from what pictures Tech had found for me. The pictures is showing his lips touching her forehead, a look of content
showing on her face.
I swallow hard and hold my hand out, causing Kallie to grin wide, thinking she's won something when I've just had my
heart torn out.

I BLINK as the backdoor opens with a bang before I sigh at my mother's shout.
"How dare you treat her that way?"
I snort and shake my head before looking at my mother. "How dare I what mother, tell her where to go after she cheated on
me from the start of our relationship, trying to trap me for my money?"
Momma flinches. "She may have changed."
I shake my head. "She hasn't. She still has money signs in her eyes, and plus, I never loved her, Momma, and she most
definitely didn't love me. If she had, she never would have strayed, and she certainly wouldn't have had a nasty gleam in her
eyes when I saw the photo! I understand your beliefs about marriage, but ours was over before it even started. I was the other
man in her relationship with Travis without knowing. Remember that, Mother."
Momma sighs, leaning back against my father, whose arms automatically wrap around her. I have to look away. Livvy used
to lean against me that way before I realized she was a lying, cheating cunt.
My only regret—making April scream, which will fucking haunt me for years to come. It's not her fault her mother is a
whore.
Sighing, I take another sip of my drink, hoping I don't fucking cry like a baby, my brothers and parents sitting with me,
watching me.
The main entrance door slams open. We all look in shock, and I growl, seeing my now ex's ex glaring into the room, his
brown eyes burning with rage.
Well, fuck him!
I sneer, "Get the fuck out before you leave in a body bag."
His eyes come my way. The brothers all stand behind me, recognizing him, my father keeping hold of my momma, but Phil
doesn't flinch.
Instead, he rushes toward me and shouts, "You selfish motherfucker!"
Momma squirms against Dad while I raise a brow, my brothers trying to hold in their laughter.
He doesn't like our reactions. One minute he's near the door, the prospect looking at him with a raised brow, and the next,
his fist is slamming against my fucking eye.
I land on the floor with a thump.
Fuck me, that hurt. He may not be as big as me, but the fucker knows how to punch.
I scramble to get up, ready to knock this fucker out, only to see Tats has his arms locked behind his back as the fucker kicks
out.
"Let go of me, you fucking bastard! I’m going to kill this motherfucker for hurting Liv!”
I let out a laugh. "Hurt Liv?" I shake my head. "The whore’s been fucking you behind my back!"
My anger shines through, my heart fucking breaking.
Phil starts to laugh, and I growl, but his laughter gets louder. "F-fucking me?"
Momma growls. "That's what my son just said; he's just seen an intimate photo of the two of you from this morning."
Phil laughs again before making eye contact with me, but his words are for my momma as he states with a smirk, "The first
and only time I fucked Liv was when our daughter was conceived." Everyone stills as he continues, "That was the same night I
realized that your son was more my type."
He looks her way as we all stand here in shock.
"Liv is an amazing woman who didn't judge me when she had every right to. She's my best friend, and that fucker," he
points my way, "has just torn her heart out. Not surprising she can't be bothered with relationships anymore. He was the first
guy she's fucking dated since me. It took both her mother and me to convince her she didn't fucking turn me gay, and that fucker
actually wanted to be with her—but now she’s fucking done."
Momma swallows hard as his words sink in. He's gay, she's not been cheating, and I fucking hurt her and Little Red.
Fuck.
I clear my throat. "I uh, how did, I mean…." I can't get my words out. They made April, so they must have felt some
chemistry, right?
He sighs, linking his fingers behind his neck before pacing and stopping in front of me. Snake, Tats, Tech, Momma, and Dad
all take a seat, getting comfortable.
"I was her first boyfriend." He swallows hard. "I was captain of the soccer team, and she was head cheerleader. We
clicked but…not in a romantic way."
Momma cuts in, already putting the pieces together, "You started dating because of the social pressure?"
He nods. "We did, mostly because of my parents. They were always in my ear about how great we looked together, but we
never got real physical. I rarely kissed her and vice versa. I thought about other men but didn't want to address it. We never
held hands; I always had my arm around her in a platonic way, like a brother holds his sister." He shakes his head, placing his
hands on his hips. "We'd been 'dating' for six months when we slept together, giving each other our virginities. We just thought
it was the next step." He looks at me with pain. "She didn't want me, we had to use shitloads of lube." I wince; she was dry,
fuck. "When I first entered her…." He shakes his head again. "…it felt so fucking wrong. It was like I was committing incest."
"Fuck,” my dad rasps.
He nods before whispering in shame, "She never orgasmed. I couldn’t even get hard without imagining another man. That’s
how I finally allowed myself to admit that I was gay." He swallows hard, his eyes tearing up. "I didn't comfort her afterward. I
pulled out of her, muttered that I was gay, then hightailed it out of there. I fucking hurt her, and I didn't even know it. I left her
lying in her bed, naked, covered in blood—more than there should have been—and vulnerable. I was a fucking pussy. I ignored
her for weeks, told everyone but her that we broke up before I finally manning up. I missed my best friend. When we finally
met up again, that's when she told me I knocked her up with extremely bad sex."
I swallow hard as my words from before start to haunt me, the coldness that shadowed her eyes.
Snake tilts his head and asks, "So, let me get this right. You're gay but didn't want to admit it. You fucked your girlfriend—
badly, I might add—most likely tearing her by the sounds of things, to finally give in to your true self, only to find out you
managed to knock her up?"
He snorts but nods. "We were protected. I was wearing a condom, but she bled so much that, afterward, we couldn’t see
that the condom had broken. When I came out as gay, she and her mother were my rock. My parents kicked me out, refusing to
have a son; April has never met them."
I shake my head in confusion. All the dates with her, all the time we spent together….
I suck my lip ring into my mouth before asking, "Why didn't she tell me?"
He sighs. "She was going to at the BBQ today. I encouraged her. Before, well, your family hasn't exactly made her feel
welcome, so she was stubborn and refused to let them know out of principle. I mean, just last week some women told her that
April wasn't welcome here, and she left early. You took three hours to notice she was even gone, and you should feel fucking
grateful she even stayed with you after that."
I wince as my mother looks down in shame. Livvy said April was tired and I was too busy shooting the shit with my
brothers. She didn’t fucking answer my calls or texts for three fucking days.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
My heart pounds in my chest. I need to see my girl.
Phil must notice my determination because he shakes his head at me and states, "Not happening. She's now officially done
with you. You made our daughter cry, my fucking daughter, who called you ‘Daddy Two." I stiffen as he points at me. "I
fucking rooted for you, I fucking encouraged her to tell you how she feels, and you fucking blew it. I'm only here so you know
the truth and to tell you to stay the fuck away from my family. You're no longer welcome."
I grind my back molars as I growl, "They're my family, too."
He walks to the door but doesn't turn around as he states, "Not anymore. You made sure of that an hour ago, and my loyalty
is to my best friend."
With that, he leaves, and I start to breathe hard.
"Son…."
I ignore my father and shake my head before rushing after the dick. As I get to the front, I see he's already sitting in his car,
window open, fucking waiting for me, clearly knowing I would follow.
Asshole.
He nods and says, "I knew I was right about you."
He started his car before looking at me again. "You've got a long road ahead of you. Our girl is stubborn, and after finding
out her first boyfriend was gay right after giving him her big V, she's also prideful. But I'll try to help as much as I can. Don't
fucking hurt her again."
I give him a chin lift as he drives off.
My mother's voice sounds behind me. "We'll all help as much as we can, son. I'm so sorry, baby."
I nod, ignoring all the scratched bikes. I look at my mother and rasp, "Good, I'm going to need it."
And I am…if I can win my girls back.
 6

Olivia – Two Years Later – Present Day

I GRUNT and grab the tray of fresh bread out of the oven before placing the tray on the counter, and then wipe my sweaty
forehead. I've been baking since five this morning because Florence forgot to wake up, and it's now lunchtime.
I shake my head. Instead of coming to the back to finish baking, she sat behind the counter on her phone. The girl is a
flipping menace, and the sooner I save up for my own bakery, the better.
The oven dings, and I quickly rush over to take out the apple turnovers before I place them onto another tray, burning my
fingers in the process, cursing, then taking them out to the counter. I roll my eyes at Flo, who’s grinning at her phone, as I start
placing the cakes in the glass display case. Just as I put the last one, I hear the rumble of bikes, knowing it’s not Rock, and
stiffen as Florence gasps, sitting up straighter and making me roll my eyes.
The bakery door opens a few seconds later and my girl’s, "Momma," squeal echoes through the room. I catch her as she
jumps into my arms, giggling, making Flo roll her eyes, before pulling the dusty pink blouse further apart to showcase her
boobs.
Seriously, the woman has no self-respect.
The door opens again and the man I hate to see walks in, his eyes solely focused on me and April. I ignore him like always
as I rub my nose with my girls and whisper, "I missed you, baby girl."
She grins and states, "Missed you, too, Momma. Gammy Rose made me cupcakes." She leans forward and whispers, "Don't
tell her, but you's are better."
I grin and correct her, "Yours, baby."
She giggles as Smokey rasps in her ear, "I heard that, Little Red," before he takes her from my arms, throwing her in the air,
making her giggle, and I swallow hard. Normally, Phil picks her up from him, or his father drops her off to me. He's upping his
game.
After that day at his club, I didn't want anything to do with him, nor did my girl. Still, Phil being Phil, decided to let the cat
out of the bag and tell Smokey the truth about him and our relationship. Since then, he's been trying to convince me to give him
another chance, but I won't.
He broke my heart and hurt my girl. There's no coming back from that for me. April may be an innocent, little four-year-old
girl, but not me. I tend to hold grudges; you know, that whole, your first boyfriend is gay thing, kind of hardens you a little, plus
he's taken, always has been, apparently.
After about three months of not really seeing him, April started to cry for him. Phil convinced me to let him see her, so now
he has her a few times a week, last night being one of them. She turned four last week, and his club wanted to do something
special for her. She calls Rose, Gammy, and Rock, Grandpa Rock. She adores them, and I wouldn't take that from her.
Normally, if Phil can't pick her up, Rock will bring her to me in his truck, but not without trying to convince me to give his
son another chance before leaving.
This is new.
Florence clears her throat, making me roll my eyes.
"Smokey, baby."
Smokey rolls his eyes, not hiding it like I did. He gently kisses my girl's forehead, making my heart flutter. The man hasn't
been playing fair. For two years, he's tried to use my gullible little girl to get me back, but he hurt me, and well, he’s married,
so it kind of confuses me as to why he keeps trying. He’s got to know I’d never be okay being “the other woman.”
"What can I do for you, Florence?" he asks as he places April back into my waiting arms, but not without touching the little
flesh showing on my stomach between my top and jeans with the tips of his fingertips.
Another of his unfair advantages is that he tries to touch my skin any chance he can get when he's around, and lately, it
seems to be more and more. Momma is now on his side, especially when he showed her the harness on the front of his bike
near the tank. He had it made and then installed for my girl to ride on. Momma completely disregarded my “he’s married,”
speech, claiming his wife is most likely lying and that I need to just speak to him about it.
Traitors, the lot of them.
Florence smirks. "Well, I'm waiting for our date, baby."
I kiss April's head, trying to hide jealousy I have no right to feel. He can date whomever he wants, although his wife would
not be too happy.
Smokey snorts. "It's never going to happen."
Flo stomps her foot, "Seriously, why are you still waiting around for her? She has her own date tonight."
I wince as his piercing blue gaze comes my way. He narrows his eyes and snaps, "You have a date tonight?"
I clear my throat. "It's none of your business, Smokey."
He growls at my using his road name; I haven't called him Jonny in two years.
He steps closes and states, "Answer the fucking question, Freckles."
I swallow hard. "Fine, yes, I have a date tonight. Momma is going to watch April."
Harris is a banker in town, who asked me out a few weeks ago. I finally decided it was time to move on, even though I felt
nothing for him, not even attraction. Nope, the man in front of me has all of me; he has for years, but I can't keep holding out
hope that my pride and stubbornness will disappear.
I haven't even held Harris' hand, or even let him kiss me. Just the thought makes me want to gag.
Smokey nods, anger shining through his eyes before he looks at April, who instantly holds her arms out for him. His eyes
soften before he takes her from me, her head going into the crook of his neck as his nose goes to the top of hers, taking in her
strawberry scent. He kisses her crown before he whispers, "I'll see you in two days, Little Red. I love you."
I look down. Two years ago, I would have loved hearing those words from him, but then he hurt me…and I had found out
about his wife.
"Love you's too, Daddy Two."
He chuckles before handing her back to me, his piercing eyes staring into mine.
"This isn't over, Livvy."
I swallow hard as he turns and walks out, climbing onto his red tank Harley while fist-bumping Breaker, who waves at me.
I give a small wave, trying to blink back tears, before they both ride off.
He needs to give up; I won't forgive him. I can't. He didn't just hurt me and make my girl scream in terror, he lied about
being married, even if he was separated at the time. Then I also went through the worst experience of my life, something that
only Momma and Florence know about.

I SNIFFLE , my heart hurting. It's been two days since the club incident, and he's now started to blow up my phone, but I
don't want to speak to him. I mean, why should I? He never allowed me to explain, he accused me straight away, he hurt
me. I spent five months with him, and he still saw the bad in me instantly, all because one of his brothers turned into a
traitor. I didn't deserve that crap, and neither did April. I've dealt with my crying darling girl, only wanting Daddy Two,
not understanding why he screamed at her momma.
Then to find out he is married—fucking married!
I pull the tray out of the oven before going back to the marzipan I'm making. A sharp pain shoots through my lower
belly, making me gasp and blink back the tears. It intensifies.
I scream out as I fall to the floor, feeling like I just pissed myself. The kitchen door flies open. I grip my stomach as I
cry out in pain, Florence standing near me with wide eyes at my light-washed jeans.
"Oh crap, we need to get you to the hospital."
Another shot of pain shoots through me, making me scream out, and she rushes over to me, trying to help me up.
Another sharp pain, like a period pain but ten times worse, goes through my body. I look down and see why Flo was
panicking—blood, so much blood.

"ARE YOU GOING TO TELL HIM?"

I blink, returning from the memory. I make eye contact with Flo; her eyes were tearing up. I clear my throat and shake my
head. "He doesn't need to know, Flo."
She nods as April grips my neck, and Flo sends her a smile.
"Go on and take her home; get ready for your date, even though I think you're just stalling for the inevitable. You and
Smokey belong together."
I give her a small smile. "I don't think I can forgive him, plus he’s married."
She nods. "I think you will, but I also know you need this right now, plus his so-called wife’s claims don’t add up to the
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
One of the delights of our wanderings is to stop at a strange post
office, and have a whole handful of letters respond to our call.
Chester responded very generously, for here the truant letters, which
were each time a little behind, and had been forwarded and
reforwarded, met the ever prompt ones and waited our arrival. A few
miles from Chester we found lovely maidenhair ferns by the
roadside, and were gathering and pressing them, when an old man,
in a long farm wagon, stopped and asked if we were picking
raspberries. We told him it was rather late for raspberries, but we
had found pretty ferns. To our surprise this interested him, and he
talked enthusiastically of ferns and flowers, saying he had one
hundred varieties in his garden, and asking if we ever saw a certain
agricultural journal which was a treasure-house of knowledge to him.
Still he was not a florist, but a vegetable gardener, and we learned
ever so much about the business, and for a while could talk glibly of
Angel of Midnight corn and Blue-eyed (?) pease and so on. He gave
quite a discourse, too, on the advantages of co-operation and
exchange of ideas. He told us how much he enjoyed a fair at the
New England Institute Building, and was interested to know that we
saw it when in flames. Our pleasant chat was brought to a sudden
stop, just as he was telling us of his ambitious daughter and other
family details, by other travelers, for whom we had to clear the road.
We spent a night pleasantly at Saxton’s River, and received the
courtesies of friends, then on through Bellows Falls and Keene
towards Monadnock. We wanted to go to the Mountain House for the
night, but it was several miles out of our way, and we were tired as
well as Charlie, with thirty miles’ driving in the heat, so contented
ourselves with recollections of two delightful visits there, and stopped
at Marlboro, five miles from Keene.
When we were packing up in the phaeton, the next morning, a lady
brought us three little bouquets, the third and largest for Charlie, we
fancy. It was a very pleasant attention to receive when among
strangers and gave us a good send-off for our last day’s drive. Forty
miles is a long drive at the end of a long journey, but Charlie seemed
fully equal to it, and all went well as we journeyed along the familiar
route through Troy, Fitzwilliam, Winchendon, Ashburnham and
Fitchburg. We dined at Winchendon and visited the friends in
Fitchburg from whom we have a standing invitation for our last tea
out. The five miles from Fitchburg to Leominster Charlie never
counts. He knows his own stall awaits him. Our last day, which
began so pleasantly with a floral testimony from a stranger, ended
with a night-blooming cereus reception in our own home.
“Did you take Summer Gleanings,” do I hear some friend ask? Oh
yes, we took it, but not one sketch did we add to it. The fever for
sketching ran high last year and spent itself, but every day of the
July pages is radiant with pressed flowers and ferns. One more trip
and the book will be full, “a thing of beauty,” which will be “a joy
forever.”
 CHAPTER VIII.
NARRAGANSETT PIER AND MANOMET POINT.
“Think on thy friends when thou haply seest
Some rare, noteworthy object in thy travels;
Wish them partakers of thy happiness.”
We thought of omitting our annual letter to the Transcript, believing
that vacations in everything are good; but, even before the journey
existed, except in mind, a report of it was assumed as a matter of
course, as the part belonging to our friends, who have not found
opportunity to travel in our gypsy fashion. Then, too, we remembered
the lines above, quoted by Andrew Carnegie, as we journeyed with
him in his “Four in Hand through Britain,” and still more delightful
“Round the World,” all in a hammock in those scorching July days,
without a touch of fatigue or sea-sickness. Even a carriage journey
on paper has some advantages, no dust, no discomfort of any kind;
but we prefer the real thing, and enjoyed it so much we will change
our mind and tell you a little about it. The places are all so familiar,
and so near the “Hub” of the universe, that when you get to the end
you may feel, as we did, as if you had not been anywhere after all.
We did, however, drive four hundred miles, and had a very delightful
time.
Before we really start, we must introduce to you the new member of
our party. With deep regret and many tender memories we tell you
we parted with our Charlie last spring, and a big, strong Jerry came
to take his place. A friend in cultured Boston said, “Why, how will
Jerry look in the Transcript?”
We did not go until September, and, like every one else, you may
wonder why we waited so late, when we have often started as soon
as the “crackers” were fired off. Well, Jerry had not become used to
our climate, although July was hot enough for any Southerner. Then
the company season came, and various things made it advisable to
wait until September. We were quite reconciled, because you know
all those “conjunctions” of the planets were to culminate in August,
and it seemed likely the world was to be turned upside down. We
thought it would be so much pleasanter to be swallowed up by the
same earthquake, or blown away by the same cyclone as our home
friends.
Jerry waxed in strength, the world still stood, the last summer guest
had departed, and on the afternoon of Sept. 8, we started for Stow.
“What on earth are you going there for?” and similar comments
reveal the impressions of our friends; but we knew why, and do not
mind telling you. We were going to Boston to begin our journey, and
we could not go beyond Stow that afternoon, without going farther
than we liked to drive Jerry the first day, for he is young and we were
determined to be very considerate of him. We knew we should be
comfortable at the little, weather-beaten hotel, and that Jerry would
have the best of care.
How lovely that afternoon drive! It was the day after those terrific
storms and gales, the final “conjunction,” probably, and there was an
untold charm in everything. As we drove leisurely along, gathering
flowers to press for “Summer Gleanings,” we thought of our friends
who were speeding their way back to New York just at the time when
the country is loveliest, and knew they were envying us. Still,
somehow it did not seem as if we were traveling, but only going to
drive as we had been doing all summer. Perhaps we missed the July
heat and dust!
“Still as Sunday” gives no idea of the quiet of Stow. It seemed as if
one might live forever there, and perhaps one could, if permitted, for
just as we were leaving the hotel for a little stroll, our landlady was
saying to some “patent medicine man,” “We don’t have any
rheumatism here, nobody ever dies, but when they get old they are
shot.”
We had not walked far before we came to a cemetery, and,
remembering the landlady’s remark, we went in to read the
inscriptions. No allusion was made to shooting, but if it was a familiar
custom the omission is not strange. We noted a few epitaphs which
interested us:
“When I pass by, with grief I see
My loving mate was taken from me.
Taken by him who hath a right
To call for me when he sees fit.”

“A wife so true there are but few,

And difficult to find,
A wife more just and true to trust,
There is not left behind.”

“A while these frail machines endure,

The fabric of a day,
Then know their vital powers no more,
But moulder back to clay.”
“Friends and physicians could not save

My mortal body from the grave.”

There were six stones in close proximity bearing these familiar lines
—
“Stop, traveler, as you pass by,
As you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so you must be.
Prepare for death and follow me.”
All that night was lost, for we never woke once. Was it the stillness?
or was it that cosy, bright room, with its very simple, but effective,
“homey” touches? Be that as it may, we were fresh as the morning,
and ready to enjoy every mile of the drive to Boston, gladdening our
hearts with the sight of friends as we tarried now and then. We in
Boston and our Boston friends in the country was something new,
but a room at the B. Y. W. C. A. is next to home, and we heartily
recommend it to homeless ladies traveling as we were, or on
shopping expeditions. The night, with the unceasing din of the horse
cars, and the thousand and one noises peculiar to the city, was a
marvelous contrast to Stow, but in time we became adjusted to our
environments, and were lost in sleep.
How delightful to be in Boston, and know that there were only two
things in the whole city we wanted—a Buddhist catechism and a
horn hairpin. These procured, we went for Jerry and began the day,
which was to be devoted to making calls. We went spinning along
over the smoothly paved Columbus avenue on our way to the
Highlands, and rattled back on cobble-paved Shawmut avenue.
Dinner over, off we started for Allston, Somerville and Cambridge,
and as it was not yet five o’clock when we came back over the Mill-
dam, we could not resist turning off West Chester Park, and hunting
up some friends in Dorchester, returning in early evening. Jerry
seemed perfectly at home; perhaps he has been used to city life in
Kentucky. The day was long and full of pleasant things, but the diary
record was brief; for just this once we will confess we were tired.
Secured the catechism and hairpin, and oh! we forgot, a bit of
embroidery we got at Whitney’s, and mailed to a friend who asked us
to do so if we “happened to be near there,” drove eighteen miles and
made twelve calls, that was all.
During the day we decided to stay over Sunday, as a cousin we
wanted to see was coming. Jerry rested all day, and we did, except
the writing of many letters, dining with a friend, and attending service
at the only church we saw lighted on the Back Bay in the evening.
We thought of many things to do and places to go to, and wondered
how we should like to take a carriage journey and spend all the
nights in Boston. There would be no lack of pleasant driving, and if
we missed the variety in hotels, we could easily remedy that by
going from one to another. Boston would supply that need for a
while, and we are sure Jerry would be more than glad to find himself
at Nims’s in Mason street, day or night. But we had other things in
view for this journey, and, the cousin’s whereabouts being wrapped
in mystery, we left Boston early Monday morning.
Now, we will take you by transit, hardly excelled in rapidity by the
feats of occultism, to Narragansett Pier, and while you are taking
breath in our charming room in that vine-covered hotel at the
jumping-off place, with the surf rolling up almost under the windows,
we will just tell you a bit about the journey as we had it; driving all
day in the rain on Monday and enjoying it, making hasty doorstep
calls, spending the night at Lake Massapoag House in Sharon, and
on through the Attleboros to Pawtucket the next day, dining
Wednesday with friends in Providence, then on to East Greenwich
for the night. A drive of twenty-one miles Thursday morning, and we
are with you again at the Pier, where our first exclamation was, “Oh!
let’s stay here!” We like the mountains, but the ocean is quite
satisfying if we can have enough of it, and as our host said, here
there is nothing between us and Europe, Asia and Africa. We wrote
letters all the afternoon, with one eye on the surf, and the next
morning we drove to Point Judith, where we investigated the wrecks,
went to the top of the light-house, and were much interested in
hearing all about the work at the life-saving station. We took a long
walk, and visited the Casino in the afternoon.
We were still enthusiastic about the Pier, but the next morning was
so beautiful it seemed wise to enjoy it in Newport. The captain could
not take our horse across from the Pier, and we drove twelve miles
back to Wickford to take the ferryboat. It was quite cool, but with
warm wraps it was just right for a brisk drive. We had time for dinner
before going to the boat. The hour’s sail was very delightful, and at
half after two we were in Newport, with nothing to do but drive about
the city until dark. We saw all there was to be seen, even to the
hydrangea star described in the Transcript by “M. H.” We did not
know which was Vanderbilt’s and which Oak Glen, but that mattered
little to us, for to all intents and purposes they all belonged to us that
bright afternoon, and are still ours in memory. We fell into the grand
procession of fine turnouts on the prescribed ocean drive, but the
people generally did not look as if they were having a good time.
They had a sort of “prescribed” look, except one young lady we met
several times, perched in a high cart, with a bright-looking pug for
company; she really looked as if she was enjoying herself.
The charm of Newport fled when we were inside the hotel. The
fountain in the park below our window was very pretty, but it could
not compete with our ocean view at the Pier, and we had to sit on the
footboard of the bed, too, in order to see to read by the aspiring
gaslight.
We walked around the Old Mill and went into the Channing Church
and then left Newport for Fall River. There we called on several
friends, then inquired for some place to spend a night, on our way to
Plymouth, and were directed to Assonet. We had never heard of
Assonet before, but we did not mind our ignorance when the widow,
who “puts up” people, told us the school committee man where her
daughter had gone to teach had never heard of it. Our good woman
thought at first she could not take us, as she had been washing and
was tired, but as there was no other place for us to go, she
consented. When she saw our books, she asked if we were traveling
for business or pleasure, and as F—— drove off to the stable she
remarked on her ability; she thought a woman was pretty smart if
she could “turn round.” We had a very cosy time. People who always
plan to have a first-class hotel lose many of the novel experiences
which make a pleasant variety in a journey It is interesting
occasionally to hear the family particulars and be introduced to the
pet dogs and cats, and walk round the kitchen and backyard, where
the sunflowers and hollyhocks grow from old-time habit, and not
because of a fashion.
The Samoset House at Plymouth seemed all the more luxurious
after the modest comforts at Assonet. We “did” Plymouth once more,
this time taking in the new monument, and having plenty of time, we
drove down to Manomet Point for a night. The Point is quite a resort
for artists, but as we have given up sketching, we did not delay
there, but returned to Plymouth and on to Duxbury. We did not ask
Jerry to travel the extra miles off the main route to take in Brant Rock
and Daniel Webster’s old home, as this was our second drive in this
vicinity, and rather than drive two miles to a hotel possibly open, we
took up with the chances near by. We found oats at a grocery store,
but it was too cold to camp; indeed, we did not have one of our
wayside camps during the entire journey. There was no hotel, no
stable, no “put-up” place or available barn, but the grocer,
appreciating our dilemma, said he could easily clear a stall back of
his store, and while he was helping us unharness, we saw a large
house perched on a high bluff not far away. Although it was a private
boarding-house we made bold to cross the fields, mount the many
flights of steps and ask for dinner, which was willingly granted.
You will surmise we are bound for Boston again, and will not be
surprised to find us with friends on the Jerusalem Road, after
enjoying the beauties of this road from Cohasset to Hingham, where
we went for a handful of letters only equalled by that parcel at
Providence.
Oh, how cold it was the next day! The thought of Nantasket Beach
made us shiver, and preferring to think of it as in “other days,” we
turned our faces inland and drove a pretty back way to South
Hingham. Of course we could have driven right into Boston, but it
was Saturday, and we thought we would have a quiet Sunday
somewhere and go into the city Monday. After protracted
consultation we agreed on a place, but when we got there there was
no room for us, as a minstrel troupe had taken possession. Hotels
four, eight and nine miles distant were suggested. In consideration of
Jerry we chose the four miles’ drive. We will not tell you the name of
the town, suffice it to say we left immediately after breakfast. It was a
beautiful morning—far too lovely to be spoiled by uncongenial
surroundings. We intended to drive to the next town, where we had
been told there was a hotel. We found none, however, but were
assured there was one in the next. So we went on, like one in pursuit
of the end of the rainbow, until the last man said he thought there
was no hotel nearer than the Norfolk House!
Here we were almost in Boston, Sunday, after all the miles we had
driven to avoid it. “All’s well that ends well,” however, and a little visit
with the “Shaybacks” at home, not “in camp,” could not have been on
Monday, and before we reached the Norfolk House we were taken
possession of for the night by a whole household of hospitable
friends.
Monday morning we drove into the city proper, and hovered in its
vicinity several days, calling on friends we did not see before and
driving here and there, among other places to Middlesex Fells, so
often spoken of. We ended our journey as we began it, searching for
our clerical cousin, but all in vain. We did see so many of our friends
of the profession, however, from first to last, that privately we call it
our “ministerial” journey.
Everything must have an end, but we did wish we could go right on
for another month. The foliage was gorgeous and the yellowish haze
only made everything more dreamy and fascinating. We prolonged
our pleasure by taking two days to drive home, straying a little from
the old turnpike, and driving through Weston, spending the night in
Framingham, and then on through Southboro to Northboro, Clinton
and Lancaster to Leominster. The country was beautiful in contrast
with flat, sandy Rhode Island. We gathered leaves and sumacs until
our writing tablet and every available book and newspaper was
packed, and then we put a great mass of sumacs in the “boot.”
Finally our enthusiasm over the beauties along the way reached
such a height that we spread our map and traced out a glorious trip
among the New Hampshire hills, and home over the Green
Mountains, for next year.
“Summer Gleanings” is now complete, and the last pages are fairly
aglow with the autumn souvenirs of our sixteenth annual drive.
 CHAPTER IX.
BOSTON, WHITE MOUNTAINS AND VERMONT.—A SIX
HUNDRED MILE DRIVE.
In self-defence we must tell you something of our seventeenth
annual “drive,” for no one will believe we could have had a good
time, “on account of the weather;” and really it was one of our finest
trips. We regret the sympathy, and pity even, that was wasted on us,
and rejoice that now and then one declared, “Well, I will not worry
about them, for somehow they always do have a good time, if it does
rain.”
If two friends, with a comfortable phaeton and a good horse,
exploring the country at will, gladly welcomed and served at hotels
hungry for guests, with not a care beyond writing to one’s friends,
and free to read to one’s heart’s content, cannot have a good time,
whatever the weather may be, what hope is there for them?
Why has no one ever written up the bright side of dull weather? The
sun gets all the glory, and yet the moment he sends down his
longed-for smiles, even after days of rain, over go the people to the
other side of the car, the brakeman rushes to draw your shutter, the
blinds in the parlor are closed, and the winking, blinking travelers on
the highway sigh, “Oh, dear, that sun is blinding,” and look eagerly
for a cloud. Then, if the sun does shine many days without rain, just
think of the discomfort and the perpetual fretting. Clouds of dust
choke you, everything looks dry and worthless, the little brooks are
moping along, or there is only a dry stony path that tells they once
lived, and the roadsides look like dusty millers. Now, fancy a drive
without the sunshine to blind your eyes, no dust (surely not, when
the mud fairly clogs the wheels), every tree and shrub glistening and
all the little mountain streams awakened to life and tearing along,
crossing and recrossing your path like playful children; indeed, all
Nature’s face looking like that of a beautiful child just washed. Really,
there is no comparison.
Perhaps you are thinking that is a dull day drive. Now, how about a
drive when it pours. Oh, that is lovely—so cosy! A waterproof and
veil protect you, and the boot covers up all the bags and traps, and
there is a real fascination in splashing recklessly through the mud,
knowing you have only to say the word and you will come out spick
and span in the morning.
We have purposely put all the weather in one spot, like “Lord”
Timothy Dexter’s punctuation marks, and now you can sprinkle it in
according to your recollection of the September days, and go on with
us, ignoring the rain, as we did, excepting casual comments.
Our journey was the fulfilment of the longing we felt for the
mountains, when we were driving home from our Narragansett Pier
and Newport trip one year ago. Perhaps you remember those hazy,
soft-tinted days, the very last of September. The air was like
summer, as we drove along through Framingham to Southboro,
gathering those gorgeous sumacs by the wayside, and wishing we
could go straight north for two weeks.
The morning of Sept. 6th, 1888, was very bright, just the morning to
start “straight north,” but with our usual aversion to direct routes we
turned our faces towards Boston. We could not stop at Stow this
time, for the old hotel, where we slept so sweetly our first night one
year ago, is gone, and only ashes mark the spot. Waltham had a
place for us, however. A cold wave came on during the night, and we
shivered all the way from Waltham to Hull, except when we were
near the warm hearts of our friends on the way.
The ocean looked cold, but nothing could mar that quiet drive of five
miles on Nantasket Beach just before sunset. We were lifted far
above physical conditions. We were just in season to join in the last
supper at The Pemberton, and share in the closing up. We were
about the last of the lingering guests to take leave in the morning,
after dreaming of driving through snowdrifts ten feet deep, and
wondering if we should enjoy the mountains as well as we had
fancied. The weather, however, changed greatly before noon, and it
was very sultry by the time we reached Boston. Prudence prompted
us, nevertheless, to add to our outfit, against another cold wave. We
found all we wanted except wristers. Asking for them that sultry
afternoon produced such an effect that we casually remarked, to
prove our sanity, that we did not wish them to wear that day.
Night found us at Lexington, pleading for shelter at the
Massachusetts House. Darkness, rain and importunity touched the
heart of the proprietor, and he took us into the great hall, which
serves for parlor as well, saying all the time he did not know what he
should do with us. We wanted to stay there, because we do not often
have a chance to stay in a house that has traveled. The signs are
over the doors just as when it stood on the Centennial grounds, and
many things seem quite natural, although we did not chance to be
among the distinguished guests entertained under its roof when in
Philadelphia.
Our stay there was made very pleasant by a lady who gave us
interesting accounts of her journeys by carriage with “Gail Hamilton”
and her sister.
Here ended our one hundred miles preliminary, and bright and early
Monday morning we were off for the mountains. The day was just
right for a wayside camp, and just at the right time we came to a
pretty pine grove, with seats under the trees. We asked a bright
young woman in the yard opposite if we could camp there, and were
given full liberty. She said Jerry might as well be put into the barn,
then helped unharness and gave him some hay. Jerry was happy.
He does not have hay—which is his “soup,” I suppose—when he
camps. We went to the grove with our little pail filled with delicious
milk, and a comfortable seat supplied by our hospitable hostess.
When we went to pay our bill, everything was refused but our thanks.
We said then, “If you ever come to Leominster you must let us do
something for you.”
“Oh, do you live in Leominster? Do you know ——?”
“Oh, yes, she is in our Sunday-school class.”
This is only one of the many pleasant incidents of our wanderings.
We spent that night at Haverhill and had one more camp, our last for
the trip, this time on the warm side of a deserted barn.
Two and a half days’ driving up hill and down to Dover, and over a
good road through Rochester and Farmington, brought us to Alton
Bay, where we all went on board the Mt. Washington for the sail of
thirty miles to Centre Harbor. Jerry was tied in the bow, and as we
got under way the wind was so strong we should have had to wrap
him up in our shawls and waterproofs if the captain had not invited
him inside. We braved it on deck, for Lake Winnipiseogee is too
pretty to lose.
We “did” Centre Harbor some years ago, so drove on directly we
landed. At Moultonboro we stopped to make some inquiries, and
while waiting, the clouds grew very mysterious, looking as if a
cyclone or something was at hand, and we decided to spend the
night there. The people were looking anxiously at the angry sky; and
the Cleveland flag was hastily taken down; but no sooner were we
and the flag under cover than the sun came out bright, dispelling the
blackness. We wished we had gone on as we intended, and looked
enviously on the Harrison flag, which waved triumphantly, not afraid
of a little cloud.
We saw a large trunk by the roadside as we drove through the
woods next morning. We gave all sorts of explanations for a good-
looking trunk being left in such an out-of-the-way place, but, not
being “reporters,” we did not “investigate” or “interview,” but
dismissed the matter with, “Why, probably it was left there for the
stage.” We do not feel quite satisfied yet, for why any one should
carry a trunk half a mile to take a stage when we had no reason to
think there was any stage to take, is still a mystery.
We got all over our disappointment at stopping early for the cloud,
for the drive, which was so lovely that bright morning, would have
been cold and cheerless the night before. It seemed as if we went on
all sides of Chocorua, with its white peak and pretty lake at the base.
Why has somebody said—
“Tired Chocorua, looking down wistfully into
 A land in which it seemed always afternoon.”

One might spend a whole summer amid the charming surroundings

of North Conway, but we had only a night to spare. There were many
transient people about, as is usual in the autumn. The summer
guests had departed, and now some of the stayers-at-home were
having a respite. We wished all the tired people could try the
experience of an old lady there, who said she “could not make it
seem right to be just going to her meals and doing nothing about it.”
Oh, how lovely that morning at North Conway! This was the day we
were to drive up Crawford Notch; and what about all the prophecies
of our seashore friends? Where were the snowdrifts we dreamed of?
The air was so soft we put aside all wraps, and, as we leisurely
drove along the bright, woodsy road, I wonder how many times we
exclaimed, “This is heavenly!” We fairly drank in the sunshine, and
fortunately, for it was the last we had for a full week.
We dined at the hotel in Bartlett, and strolled about the railway
station near by, so tempting to travelers, having a pretty waiting-
room like a summer parlor, with its straw matting and wicker
furniture. We took our time so leisurely that we found we could not
get to the Crawford House in season to walk up Mt. Willard, as we
had planned, so stopped at the old Willey House, this side. It was
quite too lovely to stay indoors, and, after we had taken possession
of the house, being the only guests, we took the horn our landlady
used to call the man to take care of Jerry, and went down the road to
try the echo, as she directed us. It was very distinct, and after we got
used to making such a big noise in the presence of those majestic
mountains, we rather liked it. We gathered a few tiny ferns for our
diaries, and took quite a walk towards the Notch, then came “home,”
for so it seemed. We had chosen a corner room in full view of Mt.
Webster, Willey Mountain, and the road over which we had driven,
and where the moon would shine in at night, and the sun ought to
look in upon us in the morning. The moon was faithful, but the sun
forgot us and the mountains were veiled in mists.
Will there ever be another Sunday so long, and that we could wish
many times longer? We had the warm parlor to ourselves and just
reveled in a feast of reading, watching the fluffy bits of mist playing
about Mt. Webster, between the lines. Just fancy reading “Robert
Elsmere” four hours on a stretch, without fatigue, so peaceful was it
away from the world among the mountains. After dinner we drove to
the Crawford to mail a letter and back to the Willey, having enjoyed
once more in the short one hour and a half one of the grandest
points of the whole mountain region, the White Mountain Notch. We
were now fresh for another long session with Robert and Catherine.
It was raining again, and steadily increased through the night until it
seemed as if there would not be a bridge left of the many we had
crossed the day before.
We were interested in the fate of the little bridges, for we were to
retrace our steps, seventeen or eighteen miles, to Glen station. We
had driven up through the Notch because—we wanted to; and we
were going back all this distance because we wanted to go on the
Glen side of the mountains; for with all our driving, we had never
been there. What a change from the drive up on Saturday! How
lively the streams; and the little cascades were almost endless in
number.
The foliage looked brighter, too. The roads were washed, but the
bridges all stood. We dined once more at Bartlett, then on to
Jackson via Glen Station. We had not thought of Jackson as so
cosily tucked in among the mountains.
Again we were the only guests at the hotel, and the stillness here
was so overpowering, that it required more courage to speak above
a whisper in the great empty dining-room than it did to “toot” the horn
in Willey Notch.
We usually order our horse at nine, but when it pours, as it did at
Jackson, we frequently dine early and take the whole drive in the
afternoon. These rainy stop-overs are among the pleasant features
of our journeys. Who cannot appreciate a long morning to read or
write, with conscience clear, however busy people may be about
you, having literally “nothing else to do”? It does not seem to trouble
us as it did the old lady at North Conway. It was cool in our room,
and we took our books down stairs, casually remarking to the clerk,
who apparently had nothing to do but wait upon us, that we had
been looking for the cheery open fire we saw in the reception room
the evening before. He took our modest hint, and very soon came to
the parlor, saying we would find it more comfortable in the other
room, where there was a fire.
Early in the afternoon we were off, full of anticipation of a new drive,
and by many the drive from Jackson to Gorham through Pinkham
Notch and by the Glen House is considered the finest of all. The
foliage was certainly the brightest and the mud the deepest of the
whole trip, and we enjoyed every inch of the twenty miles. We fully
absorbed all the beauty of the misty phases of the mountains, and
did not reject anything, thinking instead how we would some time
reverse things and drive from Gorham to Jackson on a pleasant day.
Another famed drive is the one from Gorham to Jefferson. Part of
this was new to us, too, and we must confess that the “misty phases”
were too much for our pleasure that time. Not a glimpse of the peaks
of the Presidential range was to be had all that morning. Even the
Randolph Hills were partly shrouded in mists. We dined at
Crawford’s at Jefferson Highlands, and one of the guests said Mr.
Crawford had promised a clear sunset, but what his promise was
based on we could not imagine.
It does not seem as if anything could entirely spoil the drive from the
Highlands to the Waumbek at Jefferson, and from Jefferson to
Lancaster the views are wonderfully beautiful. The clouds relented a
little as we slowly climbed the hills, and just as we reached the
highest point we turned back once more for a last look at the entire
White Mountain range, and we had a glimpse of the peak of Mt.
Washington for the first time since the morning we left North
Conway.
A moment more, and the Summit House glistened in sunlight, a stray
ray from behind a cloud. As we began to descend, what a change of
scene! Sun-glinted Washington was out of sight behind the hill, and
before us were threatening clouds, black as midnight, and the
mountains of northern New Hampshire looked almost purple. The
sky foreboded a tempest rather than Mr. Crawford’s promised
sunset, but while we were thinking of it there was a marvelous
change. Color mingled with the blackness, and as we were going
down the last steep hill into Lancaster, there was one of the most
gorgeous sunset views we ever witnessed. We drove slowly through
the broad, level streets to the outer limit of the town, and then turned
back, but did not go to the hotel until his majesty dropped in full glory
below the horizon.
The sun set that night for the rest of the week, and the clouds were
on hand again in the morning. We went to Lancaster just for a look
towards Dixville, but we made this our turning-point. The drive to
Whitefield is very like the one just described, only reversed. There
were no sun-glints this time, but memory could furnish all the clouds
refused to reveal, for that ride was indelibly photographed on our
minds.
From Whitefield we drove to Franconia, and as we went through
Bethlehem street we thought it seemed pleasanter than ever before.
The gray shades were becoming, somehow.
Having driven through Franconia Notch five times and seen the
“boulder” before and after its fall, we did not fret about what the
weather might be this time. We had been through in rain and
sunshine, in perfect, gray, and yellow days, and never failed to find it
charming. This time it poured in torrents. We dined at the Flume
House, and watched those who were “doing” the Notch for the first
time, and almost envied them as they gayly donned their waterproofs
and were off for the Pool and Flume. One party declared they had
laughed more than if it had been pleasant, and all in spite of that
ruined Derby, too, which the gentleman of the party said he had just
got new in Boston, and intended to wear all winter. They had passed
us in the Notch in an open wagon, with the rain pelting their heads.
The drive to Campton that afternoon was one of those “cosy” drives.
It never rained faster, and the roads were like rivers. Memory was
busy, for it is one of the loveliest drives in the mountains. It was dark
when we reached Sanborn’s, at West Campton, but it is always
cheery there, and the house looked as lively as in summer.
One might think we had had enough of mountains and mists by this
time, but we were not yet satisfied, and having plenty of time, we
turned north again, just before reaching Plymouth, with Moosilauke
and the Green Mountains in mind. A happy thought prompted us to
ask for dinner at Daisy Cottage in Quincy, and unexpectedly we met
there one of the party who braved Franconia Notch in winter a few
years ago, and who told the tale of their joys and sorrows in the
Transcript. We mailed our cards to the friends whose house was
closed, and then on to Warren, near Moosilauke. We experienced
just a shade of depression here, perhaps because the hotel, which
had been full of guests all summer, was now empty and cold, or
possibly the sunshine we absorbed at North Conway—“canned”
sunshine, Mr. Shayback calls it—was giving out. Be that as it may,
our enthusiasm was not up to the point of climbing a mountain to see
what we had seen for eight successive days,—peaks shrouded in
white clouds. The sun did shine in the early morning; but it takes
time to clear the mountains, and the wind blew such a gale we
actually feared we might be blown off the “ridge” on Moosilauke if we
did go up. We waited and watched the weather, finished “Robert
Elsmere,” and began for a second reading, and after dinner gave up
the ascent. By night we were reconciled, for we had the most
charming drive of twenty miles to Bradford, Vt., crossing the
Connecticut at Haverhill, and saying good-by to New Hampshire and
its misty mountains.
A new kind of weather was on hand next morning, strangely like that
we have become accustomed to, but not so hopeless.
These dense fogs along the Connecticut in September are the
salvation of vegetation from frosts, we were told, but they are fatal to
views. We drove above and away from the fog, however, on our way
over the hills to West Fairlee, but it rested in the valley until nearly
noon. It was encouraging to learn that fair weather always followed.
A “bridge up” sent us a little way round, but we reached West Fairlee
just at dinner time, and while Jerry was at the blacksmith’s we
strolled about the village with friends. The afternoon drive to Norwich
on the Connecticut—a pretty, old university town—was very
pleasant. We were directed to the hotel, but when a lady answered
the door bell, we thought we must have made a mistake, and were
asking hospitality at a private mansion. There was no sign; the yard
was full of flowers, and the big square parlor, with the fire crackling
under the high old mantel, the fan-decorated music-room through the
portieres—everything, in fact, betokened a home. And such in truth it
was, only, having been a hotel, transients were still accommodated
there, as there was no other place in Norwich. When the very gallant
colored boy ushered us into a room the size of the parlor below, with
all the homey touches, we felt really like company. The delicious
supper, well served from the daintiest of dishes, confirmed the
company feeling.
We started out in the densest of fogs from our luxurious quarters in
Norwich, but soon left it behind, and the drive along White River was
very lovely. We had to dine at a “putting-up” place, with another
fellow-traveler, in a kitchen alive with flies; and at Bridgewater, where
we went for the night, we were received by a woman with mop and
pail in hand—a little “come down” after our fine appointments. We
must not forget our pleasant hour in Woodstock that afternoon. We
drove through its pretty streets, called on friends, and took a look at
the fair grounds, for everybody was “going to the fair.”
Fine appointments are not essential to comfort, and when we were
all fixed in our little room, with a good book, waiting once more for it
to simply rain, not pour, we were just as happy as at Norwich. After
dinner we challenged the weather, and set forth for Ludlow. We
overtook the little Italian pedler, with what looked like a feather bed
on his back, who had sat at table with us, and was now ploughing his
way through the mud. His face was wreathed in the most
extravagant smiles in response to our greeting. The rain had spent
itself, and we enjoyed walking down the mountain as we went
through Plymouth. It seemed an unusual mountain, for there was no
“up” to it, but the “down” was decidedly perceptible.
Ludlow was as homelike as ever, and the Notch drive on the way to
Chester as interesting. The foliage, usually so brilliant at that season,